


The Wolf Complex

by Crazy_Foxie



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshō no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Bromance, Character Death, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 47,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Foxie/pseuds/Crazy_Foxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every slave that Prince Hardin had liberated had some recollection of a life before captivity. They knew who they were and they had every right to speak up. All but one, and the entire Aurelian Army endeavours to teach Wolf the way of the world and shatter the one he had lived in. No one had asked if Wolf had wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Order

Nearly every Aurelian nobleman had stepped into the Estate of Lord Pelham at some point in their life. They always had a look of pride on their faces as they watched Master Pelham mature before their eyes, toasting to his good health the moment he came of age. They fawned over Lady Pelham, kissing her aging hand in greeting and praising her gardens. Although Lord Pelham himself was very straight-laced, he treated his guests just as well as they did his family. He was courteous and an excellent entertainer when it was of mutual benefit to him – such was a nobleman's life.

I expected that every other estate owned by aristocrats was about the same. The lavish artefacts around the house were still a novelty to me, boasting pieces of history across rooms and filling each empty space with splendour. It was history that was just as much mine as it was the Pelhams'.

Unlike any of the previous visits, Prince Hardin's one was one that would be unannounced. That scared Master Pelham more than anything, and in anticipation he had given me clear instructions about what to do upon his arrival. 

I brought my legs closer to my chest in a bid to contain my body heat. Instead of waiting in the shadows to be called upon when necessary, I was to slink into darkness and wait for it all to be over. I didn't question why I had to hide from the Prince of Aurelis, but Master Pelham warned me all the same. 

"He'll take you away from me. He'll make you his own, and push you twice as hard as I have. That's something you don't deserve."

So I did what he ordered. I conserved my energy to wait for the master's return, keeping the sword close to me. It was blunt, but it could still end my life if matters turned for the worst. The hours and days blurred into long moments of resting and waking; the sun only crept into my quarters through a slither in the wall. I rarely strayed from my corner, and when I did, it was merely to do my business in the other.

I was already awake when the outside world recognised my existence. The door handle rattled a bit at first, and then more frantically as the intruder noticed it wasn't opening. I stared at the sturdy bolt, as if my willpower alone would be enough to ensure it didn't break away from the frame. I waited for the stream of curses to follow, reassuring me that Master Pelham had returned and it was safe for me to come out. I wasn't sure if I could even get onto my feet, but I sat up all the same. 

There was inaudible chatter from the other side, chatter that assured me there was more than one assailant and neither of them were Master Pelham. The sword was within arm's reach, but did I have the strength? I had to fall onto it, and I didn't have a lot of time.

"Coyote, he's here!"

They were banging on the door now. The blood pumped ferociously in my head, summoning the adrenaline to fight for the last moments of my life. My fingers were so numb it took me several feeble swipes to bring the sword closer. My breaths were shallow, but I was determined to fulfil Master Pelham's last order. 

I was his and his alone. 

There was a crash, and instinct stupidly made me lose my grip. The sword met the stone with a clatter, and the dim light from the hallway told me that everything was over. I had failed…or had I?

The shadows of three men crept into the room, the men themselves stationary at the doorway, but that wasn't enough to stop me reaching for my salvation again. Instead of directing it at myself though, I turned it to them. 

The largest man reached for his nose in recoil; the other leaned across to the one in the middle, I assumed to mutter something in an undertone. I couldn't make out their faces of greed and delight, but I certainly wasn't going to go down without a fight.

I breathed harder as the man in the middle stepped into my quarters. The resonance of heels meeting stone was surely the sound of hell to come. 

It had been a long time since I had been this afraid.

The man knelt down in front of me, making sure that his knees didn't touch the floor. His mantle wasn't so fortunate, skirting the floor in a crumpled pile of rich white material. It was only this close that I could make out the adornment atop his head and the tidy moustache.

More than anything though, I noticed the weapon that he set to one side. That was the sort of thing I needed to finish myself with. The man ignored me eying his sword, instead reaching for my own. It took me by surprise that he would grip it by the blade, but quite naturally it was easy for him to force it out my weak grasp. 

With absolutely nothing to save me now, I braced myself for the worst. I forced myself to wear a blank look to bury the panic. I had to steel myself for this; it didn't matter whether I was ready or not.

"What's your name?" His voice was deeper than I had expected. It was well-controlled; perhaps he too was burying his inner glee.

I didn't want to answer, but I knew I had to. "We have no need of names." I could barely work out the voice as my own, and yet I was pleased I remembered how to speak.

He sighed. Evidently it was not the answer he'd hoped for, but it was the truth. "And why's that?" he asked next. "What did you call your comrades?"

"The Pelhams called us filthy rats." It was that or colourful variants of it. It really didn't make much difference what they called us – we knew when they wanted something from us, and that was all there was to it. "We called each other that too."

I was content with limiting my answers to short sentences. I had answered each of the man's questions in turn, yet as his dark eyebrows gradually furrowed, he seemed less happy to hear my responses. Perhaps next time I ought to lie – would that get me one step further away from being struck?

The man sighed again, and I couldn't figure out why he kept doing it. "We will have to work on that. Unnamed one, my name is Hardin. Will you come with me?"

I had known that Prince Hardin would come for me if Master Pelham didn't, but for some reason I hadn't expected him to come in person. Now that I could put a face to the very man whose wrath I was trying to avoid, I could see the vague resemblance. He could barely take his eyes off me like Master Pelham; I could tell that much so far.

I blinked slowly, and I dared to ask the one question I had been desperate to ask since their arrival. Slaves didn't ask questions, but at the same time I was curious how he would react. "What happened to Master Pelham?"

Prince Hardin didn't seem to mind, and gave the answer very freely. "He's alive, if that's what you mean. Naturally he'll have his rights and privileges stripped of him for supporting the slave trade. He tried to use your existence to keep his social standing and walk free, saying that he was the only one who knew where you were, but we were fortunate to find you. It's a relief you held out for so long."

I had survived to be reunited with Master Pelham, yet that didn't seem likely anymore. If anything, it seemed that my survival had sealed my master's fate. I would never see him again, and now I had changed hands to Prince Hardin. I was a disgrace to Master Pelham, but for him I will endure all that was to come.

Prince Hardin held out a hand. He gave me an odd look – what was I meant to do? "You've got more spirit and bite than a filthy rat. Is it okay for me to call you Wolf instead?"

I didn't reply. I was his – he could call me whatever he pleased.


	2. The Wolf and the Pheasant

The sunlight clawed at my eyes and I very nearly ran back into the Pelham Estate, but even that didn't compare to what awaited me at the castle. 

Subjects flocked around Prince Hardin as we entered the grounds (him on horseback, me in what I could only describe as a horse drawn provisions cart). He looked the part now, and I could see now his commanding stature and stern face in full. The natural light fell onto him differently than the candlelight that fell onto Master Pelham. Somehow the shadows that fell from his hat of bandages only enhanced his authority; it wasn't a medium to disguise his true emotions. 

He barked orders, and it was then that the hell I had been waiting for finally reared its head. Hands dragged me off the cart before I knew it, pulling me in opposite directions. I didn't know where to look or what to do. I knew my efforts would be futile with so many onto me, but if Master Pelham had taught me anything, it was verbal abuse.

My words fell onto deaf ears, and although I felt no better screaming myself hoarse, it made me forget that people were touching me. They were all too eager to strip off the one item of clothing I had, forcing me down onto a seat at the centre of a room I had no idea I had reached. 

I didn't know how many people assaulted me. I was so exhausted, not to mention humiliated, and the only thing I could do was shut my eyes and silently pray to wake up in the basement. They hacked at my arms, legs, back, every inch of my skin, chewing their way through to my bones. I bit down on my lip to stop myself from crying out. I was in so much pain I couldn't work out which part of my body hurt the most. My head lurched forwards rhythmically as several hands tore out clumps of my hair. 

Occasionally an onslaught of water drowned me, which ironically was about the only time I could catch my breath. My own salt water merged with theirs and every drop met the floor one way or another. 

The torment probably lasted hours. They made quick work in drying me and, finally, they brought back a bit of my dignity as they dressed me. 

Someone fought at my hair, perhaps to see if it would come off altogether. "You must be hungry. The chefs should have finished preparations now, so I'll take you there."

I was sore and emotionally drained; why couldn't I just collapse on the floor and never wake up? 

But I obeyed, as I always did. No matter how tired I was, my body always seemed to know what it was doing. I thought my eyes were open, but I didn't register very much as I left that torture chamber to follow someone other than Prince Hardin. My head was so heavy. The lady may have tried to make conversation with me, but I honestly couldn't hear her. 

I could tell I wasn't walking straight. My shoulder felt like it had shattered under my weight. Had I fallen over? I had one arm over her shoulder now and my head felt like it had been split open. 

We continued to walk, and as we did, there was the undeniable aroma of meat in the air. Master Pelham always enjoyed hunting for boar and deer, and for the first time it felt like home. He always told the cook to prepare it, and often it was much larger than what he and his hunting entourage could manage. The filthy rat and I would get the leftovers if his entourage left happy – it would have been stone cold and for the most part the edible bits still clung onto the bones, but nevertheless the morsel was a delicacy.

I was still wrapped up in my fond daydream when the lady eased me onto a seat. It felt good to finally sit down again, and the smell of meat was stronger than ever.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I willed my eyes to open once again. There was a very deep fried bird of some description at the centre of the plate, adorned atop a bed of lush vegetables I had never seen before. The plate itself looked like it was bigger than my head, and I had to wonder if everything I had eaten in my life compared to this monstrosity. 

A laugh boomed beside me, and I was glad I didn't have to turn my head to see who it was. Prince Hardin leaned across armed with long cutlery, turning the weapons onto the dead creature at the table. The bird gave a squelchy cry as the long fork dug into its thigh. "It might be a bit much for you, but I'm sure you will like pheasant."

I opened my mouth to protest, but no words formed. I was used to eating stale bread and broccoli stalks (a real dislike of Lady Pelham's). I watched as he expertly carved into the meat, carrying the generous helping across onto a smaller plate. Wait…why did I have a plate? Wasn't that something only nobles ate from? 

If he wanted me to eat pheasant, I had to. 

My head looked at the forks first, then sharply turned to the knives. I could have probably tried the pheasant with my hands, but somehow it felt wrong being in a room as elaborate as this. If I was facing the wall of the basement, I could get away with it, as I had done all these years. 

One hand reached for the forks. Was I supposed to use the outside one or the inside one? I had seen the Pelhams dine on a number of occasions – why couldn't I remember?

"It doesn't matter which one you use – you can use your hands if that makes you feel more comfortable."

My gaze slowly lifted to Prince Hardin. This was all a trick, it had to be. The smell of food was unbearable, and in the midst of my rabid hunger, I had forgotten the basics. I had to earn my food; nothing came into my hands without me working for it. This was a test – he was seeing if I would break. And I nearly had.

"What did I do to deserve this?" I asked slowly.

Prince Hardin shook his head before he moved slightly behind me. He forced the cutlery into my unprepared hands, taking my hands into his own. They were firm, but for some reason I couldn't lash out at him the same way I had done when the others had touched me. "You were in that cellar for over two weeks. Trust me, you deserve this."

I watched and felt him cut away at the pheasant. There was no logic to what he was saying. It was going to be difficult to understand him. I could anticipate Master Pelham's needs quicker than he himself knew what he wanted – that was one of the main things that guaranteed I got food at the end of the day. 

Maybe I deserved this meat for surviving, but what of tomorrow?

"Tell me: do you have any recollection of a life before the Pelhams?" Prince Hardin let go of my hands, my plate now littered with manageable chunks that emitted small puffs from time to time. He moved round to join me at the table. 

I kept my eyes focused on him, if only to delay giving into temptation. I saw more of Lord Pelham in Prince Hardin, the way he held his head high and the broad shoulders. I noticed that the mantle he had worn when he had come for me had gone, and he was now dressed in a tunic not too different to the one I was wearing. Although the sleeves were moderately loose, I could still tell his arms were strong.

"No," I replied flatly. It seemed he had expected that answer, but his eyes gave me permission to elaborate. I didn't really know how else I could phrase it. "I grew up in that estate."

Prince Hardin shook his head, but I could tell it wasn't because I gave the wrong answer. I had merely confirmed his observations. I had been assigned to one master before, but I could certainly cater to his needs. Was he disappointed I couldn't remember a life before? 

He raised a lazy hand at me. "Go ahead; you need to get your strength up."

I looked down at my plate again, my hands exactly how Prince Hardin had left them. To me, food was _meant_ to be eaten cold. Would my mouth even know how to react? I poked at a square, half hoping that it would spring alive so I wouldn't have to eat it. I could see Prince Hardin nodding encouragingly at me at the corner of my eye – if he said so, I had to comply. I was no use to him like this.

"Ack!" 

Reflex told me to spit it back out again, a slobbering mess on an otherwise tidy plate.

Prince Hardin peeled into soft laughter before I could even imagine the consequences. "You don't have to rush; it's not going to run away. If it's too hot, blow on it a bit." 

I did as he ordered, kissing the meat to measure its heat. It took a few moments for my skin to realise it was burning, but it was something I had to get used to one way or another. What Prince Hardin commanded, I had no choice but to obey.

It was the first thing I had eaten in weeks, and the immense flavour was enough to make the tears well up in my eyes again.


	3. Sedgar

It came as a relief that Prince Hardin noticed my predicament. The afternoon sun still streamed through the hallways and highlighted each contour of my new master's expression to perfection. There were still many hours remaining and many more tasks to be done before the sun set, but my body was physically reaching its limit. 

There was still one last thing I had to overcome before I was rewarded with sleep.

I stood at the door, unable to reach for the handle and go in. Prince Hardin had left me now, saying that this was something I had to do myself and he had other errands to run. The door would lead me to the place I could nurse my battered body in time for tomorrow, but until I saw it for myself, it was just another room of uncertainty.

Prince Hardin had already told Sedgar about me, so perhaps he was already expecting me. He was apparently taken ill, which was primarily why he was here in the first place, but what if that was a lie? What if that excuse was only to lull me into a false sense of security and a full evening of discipline was lined up for me? He was my master after all.

I probably would have stood there until nightfall if I didn't hear the heavy footsteps approaching. Sedgar trumped being caught loitering, and my body dashed into the room swifter than I had moved all day. I narrowed my eyes slightly as I examined the opposite side of the door. I didn't feel safe without a bolt on the inside, but perhaps it was for the best. If my roommate turned out to be unpleasant, at least it gave me a way out.

The room was certainly more populated than I had expected. In all honesty, I hadn't expected anything to be in it except my roommate sprawled across his chosen spot. Instead, there were two odd structures either side of the room, reaching to the ceiling. They appeared to be beds, but they were stacked on top of one another and didn't boast size or luxury like the Pelhams'. It was certainly more practical and more efficient use of the space. There was a chest of drawers, set at the far side of the room decorated merely with a glass of water, to hide all kinds of mysterious belongings. 

If there was anything I instantly liked about where I was to rest my head at night, it was reasonable sized hole in the wall allowed the fresh afternoon breeze in.

I noticed the bundle of clothes on the bed to the left. Prince Hardin had dubbed the clothes 'pyjamas'. I was supposed to change into them, so that the clothes I was wearing at the moment didn't get creased. It didn't make much sense to me, but even in spirit I won't quibble.

As I inched towards them, I heard the content breathing before I saw him. He was in the other lower bed, his face buried within the folds of the blankets. It didn't prove to be enough to cover his messy green hair, and it stuck out in so many different places it could almost have been grasslands. 

I undressed warily, never taking my eyes off him so I knew instantly when he stirred awake. Despite my caution, he continued to breathe peacefully, blissfully ignorant of my presence. Even when I had successfully dressed into pyjamas, I still found it hard to tear my eyes away from him. He was fast asleep, content with where he was. For the moment, he was harmless. 

A hand felt for the mattress, more out of curiosity than desire. I had no intention to sleep on such unstable foundations, but as no one was looking, I wanted to understand. I gingerly sat at the edge, and the bed gave a small groan. Sedgar didn't pay any attention, but the bed had made its dissatisfaction clear.

I snatched up the blanket and crossed the room for the one bit of floor that took my fancy: at the foot of Sedgar's bed. 

It didn't take me long to settle down there, the arc of my back touching two sides of the room. The blanket was thicker than I had expected and it covered my frame very snugly. My body demanded sleep, but my mind was still wide awake. So long as I could hear the rhythmic inhales of Sedgar, I couldn't afford to be caught unaware. The air was fresher and I could hear the faint clamour elsewhere in the castle. In the Pelham Estate, there was only the scuttling of rats in the night (both the human-sized and smaller varieties). Even the floor, too, was unlike the basement. 

I was well-accustomed to not getting much sleep. I woke to the sound of everything and I woke to the sound of nothing.

I sensed that Sedgar was no longer asleep, and the sudden movement somewhere above my head confirmed my speculations. The room had an orange glow to it now, and I imagined that somewhere beyond that window, the sky was absolutely stunning. 

"Wolf?"

His drowsy voice disturbed the silence. Hearing my new name would take a while to get used to, but I still got onto my feet anyway. 

Sedgar was struggling to sit upright, and when his eyes caught mine, he gave a sheepish smile. He raked a hand through his unkempt hair in an attempt to tame it. I had seen illness – Sedgar either didn't have those illnesses that killed my comrades or he had a very impressive immune system. He furrowed his eyebrows, perhaps debating whether to ask what I was doing on the floor. "Join me," he chose to reply instead. He scooted back on his bed and brought his legs up slightly. 

I obeyed, but he couldn't command my thoughts. Somehow, he wasn't quite what I had expected. He seemed accommodating enough and he didn't seem too bothered about having me around. If he was my roommate, did that make him one of my comrades?

As I perched at the edge of his bed, I could see every other filthy rat I had worked with. One way or another, they all left me. How long would Sedgar last?

"I expect Coyote's already told you, but I'm Sedgar. I would normally have accompanied him on the slave liberating missions, but unfortunately the oysters had other plans for me." He blinked slowly. "What matters is you're safe now, and no one here is going to hurt you."

I didn't mention that no one did hurt me. As long as I did what I was expected, I could avoid everything that befell my comrades. There were times I was on the receiving end of frustration, but that didn't mean anything. I was a survivor; Master Pelham just happened to give that last order to me and not to anyone else. I was safe and content in the Estate. How was I any safer here?

My face didn't give anything away, but it didn't stop Sedgar trying. He yawned before continuing. "I won't lie and say it'd be easy to adjust. Ex-slaves can take weeks, sometimes months to adjust. We all have scars that can never heal, but we remember who we were before we sustained them. We had rights, memories and, for the most part, happy childhood before we were branded."

I narrowed my eyes somewhat. Sedgar spoke of his peers collectively, and it made me wonder just how many people Prince Hardin had forced out of the hands of nobles. He spoke of scars that can never heal, yet those were the very scars that made me who I was. He spoke of right, but the right of what? I couldn't imagine life before having a master – how did they obtain food or live with themselves, if there wasn't someone else to provide them? 

Sedgar leaned forwards, the bed beneath us shifting oddly as he did so. He gave a sharp nod. "You're going to be my biggest challenge yet, and I promise you now that I won't give up on you." He gave a small laugh as he reached for the glass of water. "Sorry, I have a tendency to talk excessively when I'm nervous. I haven't crossed the line, have I?"

It wasn't the case of whether he had been talking at me or not. He clearly had a lot to tell me, and it was certain that he saw me as his responsibility more than a colleague. The other filthy rats in the Estate were tired for the most part, and the lot of us rarely had the energy to talk to each other. We talked only of the current matters, and before long they would submit to disease and fade before my eyes. They were the lucky ones.

I soon learnt that getting involved in other people only made the loss harder to deal with.

I was about to shake my head, but Sedgar held up a finger to stop me, downing the water as quick as he could. "I'd like to hear your answer in words, not actions. I want to hear your voice." 

The answer didn't come out of me easily. The simple answer was 'no', but like Prince Hardin, I was convinced he wanted more than that. I had been taught short answers were desired; the rules were different here, and I had to adapt accordingly. "No, you haven't."

Sedgar was apparently happy with that answer. "That's good. If I do get boring, you mustn't be afraid to let me know. You can tell me absolutely anything." He looked at the empty glass before casting an odd look at me. "I'm really sorry to ask this just as we're starting to hit off, but would you mind getting some more water for me? This horrible taste in my mouth won't go away. The courtyard's--"

I snatched the glass as he was talking and didn't look back as I stormed out. Finally, I could do something I was good at.


	4. What His Slaves Become

It felt strange to wander the grounds alone. I had remained in the Estate all my life, always working towards getting things done quickly; it was a peculiar feeling to simply walk. I had a mission of finding water, but I was so content with just walking I had to keep reminding myself to find a courtyard. The corridors seemed to stretch the further I continued down them, each door identical to its neighbour. Maybe they were more rooms like mine, housing a few more of Prince Hardin's slaves. 

The sky had lost its fire, but the beautiful shade of dusk smiled down on me. I had often worked until the darkness prevented me from seeing my own hands, too busy finishing up for the day I didn't look up. The heavens seemed so much higher tonight. 

I was so distracted that by the time I saw her approaching, it was already too late to double back. The swords at each hip bashed noisily against her metal sides, and each footstep she took towards me echoed tenfold in my head. 

In a fit of panic, I got down to the floor hastily, forehead just touching the stone. I took care not to break the glass as I did so – I had learnt through experience that the ire was greater when broken property got involved. So long as I kept my head down, they would know I wasn't a threat. I had got in their way, and this gesture was the universal sign for apology and respect. 

The metal boots against stone got ever closer. I kept my eyes closed as I waited for them to continue and fade, but the woman didn't pass me. 

There was the sound of movement before me, but still I didn't move. 

"Raise your head."

That was a bigger warning than I had ever received. If people were disgusted at my presence, they normally booted me aside without a word. I looked up cautiously.

The woman crouched before me was, undoubtedly, unlike anyone I had seen. The other filthy rats permanently had a layer of grime that robbed them of what complexion they had. Lady Pelham, although her portraits immortalised her beauty, her age lines otherwise disguised everything of the past, and her lips were normally pursed. 

Although the woman was a soldier, with attire that suited someone ready to go to battle, her bright green eyes didn't appear hostile. A gloved hand was on one knee, no doubt trained to wield the swords at her side. Dark hair, almost black, was tied back except for one clump that formed a perfect curve behind her left ear. 

She gave a small smile. "You're one of Prince Hardin's men, aren't you? My name is Odessa, I serve King Baelis. Do you have a name?"

It took me a few moments to organise my thoughts before I could come up with a coherent response. "Prince Hardin calls me Wolf." I couldn't understand why they wanted answers that could otherwise be condensed, but it wasn't my place to understand. That was what they all wanted.

Odessa nodded. "Pleasure to meet you, Wolf. From here on, we are comrades in arms. We are equals, and equals do not bow to one another." She took me by the elbows, encouraging me to get onto my feet with her. Ever since my ordeal with the water, the touches of people were much gentler. Prince Hardin, now her. "Every soldier, every citizen you see, they are all equals. You don't bow to any of them. Repeat after me: I don't lower my head to my equals."

I did as she instructed, the words settling somewhere in my growing library of etiquette. If this was customary in this strange place, I had to know its laws. "There is someone though?"

"Indeed," Odessa replied as she took a step back. "The only people we bow to is King Baelis and Prince Hardin. Royalty from other countries too, however for the most part, they will be accompanied by our respective lieges. The way we bow is different. If they're approaching, you stand to one side, like you did. Next, put your right arm across your chest, always your right arm with your left arm at the side. Then just bend your upper body forwards slightly." 

As she talked through the stages, she performed each of them fluidly and flawlessly. It was an art in itself, and although she was only a head shorter than me, it had so much more dignity than what I had done. She waited a while in that position before straightening. "Have a go."

My attempt wasn't nearly as seamless as hers, but I remembered it all: stand to the side, right arm, lean forwards. 

She applauded all the same, beaming at me with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Marvellous! And who do you bow to?"

I blinked slowly. It seemed to be a trait of hers to test me at every turn, but it helped nonetheless. Was this the way she was, or had she taught others in the same way? "King Baelis and Prince Hardin. No one else," I added to save Odessa the trouble of asking. 

"That's right," she affirmed sternly. She drummed a few fingers on the hilt of her sword, her eyes travelling down to my torso. "So then, where are you off to?"

The comment was surely one of curiosity, but I felt threatened all the same. "The courtyard,"  
I replied, and her question prompted me to pick up Sedgar's glass that was still on the floor. I had kept him waiting long enough; I shouldn't dally, but I couldn't go until I was dismissed or she went. 

Odessa, however, was in no rush to go. "Do you know your way there?"

I narrowed my eyes slightly. The honest answer was no, but I was reluctant to admit it. Would I be undermined for not knowing the castle enough? If, on the other hand, I said yes and pretended to know, that could be enough for Odessa to leave me. There was the risk that she would know I was lying, and I'd be undermined for that. 

My lack of response must have been enough. "Let me show you," she said through a smile. 

I kept a few paces back and Odessa didn't seem to mind this. We were apparently equals, but it still didn't sit right for me to walk alongside her. I was used to walking alone, but here I was following someone more than my entire life at the Pelham Estate. 

Our journey had almost been completely silent until Odessa suddenly rapped on a door as she went past it, flashing a devious smile at me as she turned on her heel to face me. "In case you haven't had the chance to see it yet, that there is everyone's sanctuary. There are small alcoves of training rooms dotted around the castle, so there are plenty of opportunities to spar with one another. It's a good place to train, vent frustration or get to know people. Once you know what weapon's for you, the armourer can issue you with something more durable. The training rooms are all marked with the emblem above the door."

I looked up to where she pointed, taking in the small coat of arms that perched just above the frame.

"For the most part it's an open door policy. Anyone can drift in and out as they like during the day and it generally doesn't get overcrowded, but at night the door is kept closed to respect those trying to sleep. It may be daunting at first, but everyone will spar with everyone no matter the difference in skill."

I nodded to confirm I had taken in every word she had said. Much like Odessa served King Baelis, I served Prince Hardin. She was a soldier; if I was to be of use to Prince Hardin, I had to be one too. He hadn't said what he needed of me yet, but surely he would require protection and strong men to carry out his wishes? Why else did royalty require an army?

We continued our way in familiar silence. I had no desire to break it, but the training rooms interested me more than it should have. I had contemplated asking if she frequented the training rooms, but the opportunity had long passed as the first signs of a clearing sneaked into view.

It was a secluded place, surrounded by an array of archways much like the one we went through. As Odessa and I stepped onto the grass, it nipped at my ankles in warning. It was a lot wilder and smaller than Lady Pelham's gardens, where the other nobles had stated the vibrant colours of her gardens put the Aurelian prairie to shame. The red-haired filthy rat and the old one tended her gardens to perfection; it didn't appear that the courtyard had the same dedication.

The fountain, which I assumed was the only source of water, was set to one side and spurted out a weak but steady stream. It was a marble bowl and that was it. No intricate sculptures of mermaids or carp like Lady Pelham's. 

Odessa jerked her head at me, and I took that as a cue to go to the fountain alone. Even once I had topped up the glass with a healthy supply, she still didn't move from her place. "Let's take you back." 

I lowered my head in apology. She didn't have to accompany me, but it wasn't my place to argue. "This is for Sedgar," I said as I made to hold the glass with both hands. It didn't feel right to say that he was my roommate, at least not yet. I was merely running an errand for him.

Odessa quirked an eyebrow. "Prince Hardin's favourite, hmm? Very well, let's go."


	5. Serve to Live

I had spent a great deal of time beforehand examining every groove and detail of Sedgar's door, but that was the full extent of my recollection. Odessa thankfully never asked me for information, instead knocking and entering into various rooms to ask where she can find Sedgar. I hung back as the disgruntled and sullen voices directed her and she strode with such purpose to find the right room I could almost believe Odessa was looking alone and I had disappeared entirely. 

It took a considerable amount of time to find the right room. My parting with Odessa wasn't drawn out as I closed the door behind me, for she had places to be that I had detracted her from. Sedgar managed a few words of gratitude as I passed the water to him before drinking half and leaving the rest for later.

Despite his energy before I left, he stated we should rest. Perhaps it was because I had taken so long or maybe he just wasn't feeling well enough to engage in conversation, however it was a suggestion I was glad to take up nonetheless. The room gradually darkened, and Sedgar was quick to reunite with his pleasant dreams.

Sleep didn't come to me so easily. It was an hour, maybe longer, before I gave up entirely. 

I left Sedgar where he was, closing the door carefully as I exited the room once again. If I was to prove my worth, I had to be one step ahead. 

It took me a few wrong turns to find a training room, but as I slipped into the room, I knew I had come to the right place. It was a spacious and mercifully empty place, with a wide variety of weapons in racks and brackets on one side and peculiar items lined up by the opposite wall. One looked like a straw torso with stubby arms. 

I instantly took to it. I got to know each of the accessories, testing anything and everything to fully understand what was available to me. There were objects that were abnormally heavy, which I later realised was the point. There were others that looked like boards with coloured rings, which I decided served no purpose to me yet. As much as I didn't want to admit it, there were more things I didn't know than things I did know. 

I spent a few more lonely hours with the weapons, feeling their balance and managing a few swings. By the time the early risers had started filtering in, I had already chosen my sword. It had a large chip half way down the blade, but its imperfection was precisely what I liked about it. 

As Odessa said, the other soldiers were only too happy to approach me and see how I fared. A surprising number of them tried to make conversation, talking at me between the blows, but for the most part I didn't follow. If I was going to survive, I had to surpass all of them. In order to prove myself, I had to clamber over them without looking back. I had to earn my existence from one day to the next; I refused to be a liability.

"Coyote!" 

That word was enough to silence the room. The blades either stopped midway or connected with a feeble clink and one by one the soldiers faced the open door.

Like a wave, they moved together as one. Some subtly transferred their weapons to their left hand, but the others waited patiently for them. It was only as they started to lower their head that I realised what they were doing.

There were only two people we greeted in this manner.

I flustered with the sword, changing it into my left hand. It was right arm across the chest, always the right. I caused a ripple in the otherwise respectful gesture. I would surely pay for it, and I was prepared for that.

"At ease." Prince Hardin's voice was resigned, as though the display had no effect whatsoever. "Wolf, don't copy them."

I jolted, and my head snapped up before I could stop myself. Prince Hardin crossed the room towards me, and presumably what he had said was to the effect of relief, for the soldiers resumed back to their activities as if they had never been interrupted. My partner gave a stiff nod before leaving me. 

Prince Hardin shook his head. "What are we going to do with you? Sedgar was rather concerned when he realised you weren't around. You're even still in pyjamas," he said through a small laugh. 

I blinked. I couldn't understand what he wanted out of me – was I meant to apologise or was I meant to keep quiet? Now that he mentioned it, I _was_ still in nightwear. Was that considered impertinent? 

I waited to be dismissed or otherwise disciplined, but neither came. Instead, Prince Hardin unsheathed his own weapon, the same one that I had been eying that time he came for me. It was certainly a sword suited for experienced fighters, with a handsome handle and a blade that put my own to shame. The longer he continued to smile at me, the more I began to realise he wasn't going to strike me.

"I don't think I've had anyone take to the training rooms so quickly. Did you spar with the Pelhams?" He cast a fleeting glance at my sword, which I interpreted as an invitation. 

I had no desire to spar with him, but if that was what he wanted, I would oblige. I made no move to raise my weapon. "Their guests," I said simply. Master Pelham himself wasn't interested in the activity, but it was a good past-time and a chance for aristocrats to look powerful. It was merely custom and showmanship. No matter how terrible they were, they always had to win. That was how the rules worked, and I played by them without question.

Inadvertently though, I had picked up a lot of their tactics. I often tried out different things to make it interesting and give them something to talk about.

"Of course," Prince Hardin said softly before swinging his sword at me. Although I had appeared idle, I was prepared. Steel met iron, the metallic clash ringing out with the many other blows that resounded across the room. He hadn't used his full strength, but I could tell the difference in weight between the weapons. "You're left handed." 

"I can use both," I clarified, lowering my sword arm slightly. There was no merit in sparring with an arm already tired from a day's labour, and over time I learnt to become comfortable with both.

Prince Hardin seemed impressed. "You've got potential. I look forward to when you're fully trained up." 

I parried a light blow, then another. It seemed that the rest of the room had grown quiet, and as I looked past the prince, I noticed that a few of the soldiers had now turned their attention to us. It was just showmanship, I reminded myself. Prince Hardin had come to show his followers what he was made of. 

In that moment, it all became clear. He had come to win.

I was no longer afraid of being on the offensive. I was trained in losing and an exceptional judge of talent. Every strike helped me to gauge my opponent's reflexes and know their limits. Every block helped me to understand my opponent's resolve and their skill. The look in their eyes would tell me when enough was enough, and that would be my cue to feign defeat.

We exchanged blows fairly, appearing to be evenly matched. It was merely setting the scene, so I knew how the rest of the show was meant to go. Much like how I had spared with the others, Prince Hardin's words were drowned in the fight. I wasn't interested in conversation; my purpose was to lose, but I needed to work out how and when.

His eyes gave no quarter. In fact, they seemed to say he wanted to fight more, and the creases at the ends told me he was enjoying himself. He encouraged me to give him everything I had, and for the first time I could do just that. 

It took me a short while to realise I was beginning to enjoy myself too. 

"Coyote!" 

The second time the name was called, it wasn't out of alarm. Prince Hardin himself was the one in a state of surprise, casting his eyes to one side without turning his head to face the speaker. 

It was strange to see Sedgar standing there. His hair was still a mess, but his expression was no longer bleary and sleepy. Instead he seemed to be disappointed, a thin line growing between his eyebrows in disapproval. He was taller than I thought, dressed in green that otherwise covered his body entirely. 

He rolled his eyes and strode boldly to Prince Hardin (although this was now the third time he had been addressed as Coyote). Odessa had mentioned in passing that Sedgar was Prince Hardin's favourite – maybe that was why he could get away with speaking to him in this manner. I wouldn't have dreamt of talking to Master Pelham in the same way.

"What are you doing? It's too early for him to get involved with this."

Prince Hardin laughed. "He found this place on his own. I can't deny him—"

"Even so…!" Sedgar interrupted, then stopped to flash a smile at me. It was different to the one last night, and it appeared worryingly genuine. "Wolf, come with me. Let's get you dressed and we'll start afresh."


	6. Ownership

Sedgar's idea of starting afresh involved an extensive tour of the castle, introducing me to a few of his fellow comrades along the way. There was Zed, a black-haired man with a roguish appearance with a mild personality. There was a large gash from his right temple to his chin, rendering one eye useless. Elle had belonged to the same house, and she had snorted in contempt as we were introduced. She essentially told me to come back "once I had been weaned". Hugo was quick to ruffle my fluffy head, an action I had instinctively considered hostile and retaliated. Even Sedgar was taken aback by my language, but somehow that wasn't enough to merit beating an apology out of me.

Sedgar admitted from the offset that he still wasn't fully recovered and may need to pay visits to the facilities, but he must have gotten so carried away he only had to leave me once. He was so soft-spoken it was difficult to take everything in. He asked on multiple counts whether I had any questions, and I found myself saying no every time.

Although I was sure that everything Sedgar said was important, a part of me still lived in the training room. I missed the world making sense. I knew what I was meant to do and I knew how to survive, but Sedgar had trampled on that with these new ideals. 

After showing what felt like the entirety of the castle, we ventured outside into the town. When I asked Sedgar whether it was acceptable to leave the premises, he simply shrugged and said, "As long as you're not on duty". The walk down wasn't particularly long, but the open skies made me feel very uncomfortable. There was an unmistakeable feeling of guilt at the pit of my stomach, and though I was desperate to turn back, my legs continued to follow Sedgar in blind obedience.

The firm mud was hardened in the afternoon sun and dusty puffs erupted from beneath our feet as we walked. I watched with mild curiosity as Sedgar delved into his pockets. "First things first." 

There was a distinct sound of metal as he withdrew strange objects and started to sift through them. He slipped a few back into his pocket before slowly taking hold of my hand to force the rest into it. I blinked at the strange circles that littered my palm, an array of yellow and grey that sung as they hit one another. 

"Everywhere you go, things come with a price. Money is the universal way to acquire the things you want or need." We stopped in our tracks as he cradled my hand, lifting the respective pieces as he taught me their value. "That's 200G, 100, 50…"

I nodded to say I understood, but a small part of me panicked. If these items were considered valuable, why was Sedgar giving this to me? More to the point, how did he procure these in the first place? 

Sedgar made my fingers close round the coins. "Come, now it's time for you to give it a try."

We continued down the path towards the cluster of buildings, and the voices of men grew louder each step we took. Sedgar wasn't bothered by the sheer number of people as we entered the town, weaving through the crowd to a certain destination. He kept turning round to make sure I was following, and I was glad he had. I wasn't used to so many people in one place, wandering about with no real purpose and talking over one another. I had served at banquets and functions in the Pelham Estate, which in comparison was more sophisticated than this. 

I had been in the town for less than a minute and I decided it was a bustling mass of chaos. 

When we arrived at a whitewashed building, Sedgar encouraged me to follow him in. It was a small place, but there was barely any floor room as rows of shelves were packed close together. In one corner was a cluster of pots and large urns. The light that streamed through the doorway made the dust dance around the air, flouncing its mild aroma as if to say welcome. 

Sedgar approached the man at the counter at the other end, shaking his hand enthusiastically and speaking in an undertone. The owner of the building was a stoutly individual, balding but otherwise healthy. His right hand was adorned with a number of rings that rivalled Lady Pelham's collection, although even from this distance I knew from the way the light bounced off them that they weren't nearly as valuable. He caught me looking at him, and he gave a curt nod as I turned away. 

The shelves had been arranged in colour alone, working its way down the row from green to blue and finally to purple. For the most part it seemed to be jewellery, all shapes and sizes and different materials. Foamy heads lined the back to better display the elaborate headpieces with matching earrings that were suited for special occasions. 

The shelf below, also a vibrant shade of green, catered for shiny ornaments of animals and mysterious symbols. It was hard to miss the large dragon that stretched across the shelf and cast its broad shadow over the rest. 

A few moments later, Sedgar called out to me and beckoned me over. "This is Mondo. He'll take care of you. Take your time, have a look around and see what takes your fancy. I'll wait for you outside once you've bought a souvenir."

I watched after him as he left the premises, repeating in my head what he had instructed. He wanted me to stay here, but for what reason? What was a souvenir? 

The large man called Mondo shuffled slightly in his seat, but he didn't get up. He raised his highly decorated hand before returning to his scripture. 

I looked down at my fist, and I made the coins sing to me again. I tried to recall what Sedgar had said each was worth, but to no avail. They were items of value, items that I shouldn't even have. What was I doing here? 

Mondo gave a heavy sigh as he looked up from his papers. "Browsing is very simple. Look at the wares, decide what you want and bring anything that takes your interest to me. I'll state their value, and you decide how you spend your money." 

I clenched the money tighter. It was consistent with what Sedgar wanted me to do. It was a peculiar thing to do, giving money to rid people of their possessions. If Mondo himself was content, was that enough to make it acceptable? He seemed more bothered about me standing around rather than manhandling his possessions.

I glanced at the wares he referred to, strewn across the shelves as chaotically as the streets outside. I didn't really know what I was doing, so I picked up the first thing that was within reach. It wasn't a case of choosing what took my interest; it was about trading an object for money. By fulfilling that, Mondo would allow me to leave.

Mondo gave one look at my chosen item before I had even reached the counter. "That'd be 275G."

Did I have enough? I rested the back of my hand on the glass surface to see the coins better. That was the whole point of this exercise. I was supposed to give him money to relieve him of his wares. 

Mondo finally got off his seat, snatching the coins from my hand. He worked his way through the pile, in much the same way as Sedgar had done, before taking his share and slapping the rest back into my palm. He didn't say anything until he added a few extra coins, seemingly from thin air, on top of my collection. "That's your change. Have a nice day."

He was content to revert to reading, and it took me a few moments to realise he was dismissing me. 

Sedgar, true to his word, had waited for me and grinned. "That was quick. How did you get on?"

I raised my hands, money and a golden rope intertwined with one another. "I don't know," I said truthfully, but it went unheard as Sedgar clapped my shoulder. 

"You did good. That necklace belongs to you now and yours to keep. You bought it at a fair price and Mondo thanks you for your patronage." He took out a small bag from his pocket next and I watched him take the coins one by one and put them in. 

As the money left my waiting hands, I noticed for the first time just what I had chosen to buy. The necklace wasn't particularly heavy, and the modest cross that hung from the weave of gold was glossy and deep purple in areas. I picked up the cross with my free hand, and I was surprised how smooth it was under my thumb. 

"The money you paid Mondo will pay for bread, the baker he pays will use that to buy resources and so the cycle continues," Sedgar continued. Once all the money had been stowed away, he tightened the drawstrings to seal the bag shut and placed the pouch on top of the necklace. "As soldiers, we earn our wages for our services once a month. How does it feel to own something?" 

I shrugged. The only thing I had ever required was the clothes on my back – what was the point in owning anything else? Although the jewellery I had just purchased was impressive, it was ultimately useless. 

Sedgar lowered his gaze somewhat. "You and I would have been purchased just as easily. You were probably told you were worthless, but a long time ago, someone branded you and decided how much you'd sell for. You were no different to that necklace, and the Pelhams bought you. Remember this well: you don't belong to anyone. Master Pelham, or even Prince Hardin. Your life is your own and no one can take that away from you."


	7. Brands and Battle Scars

The next morning was a similar routine, but I had made a few immediate improvements. I remembered to change into my day clothes before leaving Sedgar with his blissful dreams. I found the training room considerably quicker and overall had a better idea of the equipment. I had seen soldiers use the ringed board as a target and I had witnessed various exercises to make full use of the weights, and I was eager to try it out for myself.

In a similar way, Sedgar also didn't seem all that surprised to see me sparring when he came to retrieve me. Although he had initially been annoyed at Prince Hardin for encouraging me, he didn't scold me for continuing. He had merely smiled and said with his eyes that it was time to go. I was happy to oblige, leaving my opponent waiting with his hand outstretched.

"You don't sleep much, do you?" he commented as I approached him. 

I replaced my sword into the weapons rack before replying. "I don't need it. It's a waste of time and I can't afford to be complacent." 

Sedgar quirked an eyebrow as I walked past him. I had indirectly insulted him, yet he didn't appear to be bothered by this. "Is that why you sleep on the floor? To make yourself uncomfortable on purpose?"

I went through the open door into the corridor, however was forced to stop in my tracks when I realised I had no idea where we were supposed to go. His questions were unnecessary and didn't deserve a response. I slept on the floor because that was what I was used to. It was a habit that I had no desire to change, however I knew Sedgar would do everything to try and change that next.

Sedgar gave me an expectant look as he led the way, still waiting for the answer he wasn't going to get. I held my ground, and eventually he let the question slide. 

He took me to a slightly familiar room, although in layout alone. Rather than there being one stool set in the middle, there were several scattered across the room, many in pairs and accompanied with a small bucket. Although the placement was seemingly random, they were a suitable distance from one another. 

The memory of the first bath here was still vivid in my mind, but the emptiness of the room somehow put me at ease. When Sedgar started to strip and fold his clothes, I did the same, albeit a lot slower.

I was completely unprepared when I caught sight of the scars and small burns across his torso. For someone so level headed, I hadn't expected him to be so damaged. The deepest and most obvious scar ran across his throat, a solid three inches, maybe more, that favoured the left side and curved with his collarbone. I tried to convince myself it might have been a horrible accident, yet reason told me it had been intentional. 

He gave a wry smile when he knew what I was staring at and merely stated (without my asking), "I wear high-necks on purpose to hide it." He straightened up once all his clothes had been safely stowed away to one side. His eyes flitted at my bare chest as he did so. He too probably had questions, but he did well to disguise it.

I continued to undress, keen to avoid eye contact in case that spurred him on. At the corner of my eye I saw Sedgar step down into the white pit and set his sights on a certain seat. It seemed that the small step into the baths was to help drain the water and designed to keep clothes dry on elevated ground. I gingerly put my bundle of clothing next to his before joining him at the closest pair of seats. Sedgar took a sponge from the waiting bucket and passed it to me.

As we washed ourselves, he told me stories of the other scars he bore, how he had received them and in what circumstances. Most of his scars were punishment for matters not out of the ordinary – being too slow and, regrettably, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The burns across his body were the handiwork of the aspiring young mage Lady Bradfield, who had used him as target practice for lightning magic. 

He told me of his comrades he worked with, people he respected more than the Bradfields he worked for. He said more than once that one incredible lady would nurse him and his peers to health, and he would probably have died a long time ago if it wasn't for her. 

I noticed that Sedgar never spoke of the wound across his neck, but as he continued to talk of all other matters, it became more impertinent to ask. As a mutual sign of respect, he too never asked about the unmistakable gash that ran across my torso. He was certainly curious, but that didn't seem to be his ultimate agenda.

"We'll take turns to do each other's backs. If it's okay with you, do you mind if I take a look at your brand whilst I'm there?"

I started to round on the seat. "Go ahead."

Sedgar didn't say anything at first as he ran gentle fingers over my back. He traced the brand to me, a symbol that I had long forgotten what it looked like. It had been so long since I had received it there were times I thought I had been born with it. It didn't sting or ache; there was just a mild stiffness where the skin had failed to mend fully, a dull reminder more than a hindrance. 

"It's not a brand I recognise," he finally concluded, but he continued to probe it all the same. "I was hoping that I could track down where you came from with this information. You have absolutely no recollection of how you got this? Even the slightest smell or memory could help." 

"No," I said to my chest.

There was a sigh of mild disappointment as Sedgar planted his fingers firmly in two areas of my back. "Brands are uniform. You could say there's a code, and the iron is always circular in design and roughly three inches in diameter. Slave merchants essentially use it as a signature, spreading their mark for their reputation. Your brand…" he deliberated as he nudged the two points a little harder, "is closer to five. If I had to put down an age, I'd say you were three or four when you got it."

I turned my head slightly. "You remember though, don't you?" 

"Oh yes." Sedgar patted my shoulder lightly. At the corner of my eye, I saw him lean across to dampen the sponge. "I was sold by a merchant known as Fat Joey. He was a bit of a bully, but everything he did was nothing compared to being branded." 

My eyes drifted shut as he scrubbed, one hand holding me steady as the water ran from my shoulders to the floor. It was an entirely different experience to the first time I was bathed. "Did it hurt?" I asked lamely. I feared that if I didn't ask the questions, he wouldn't touch on the subject again.

Sedgar made a pensive sound of affirmation. It was probably a blessing I couldn't remember the flesh burning off my back, but to every other man, Sedgar included, it was the strongest memory they had. If I came to understand what everyone else had experienced, I could assume the same identity. They considered slavery as the darkest point in their life, the time they were torn from everything they had known. 

I wanted to understand so I knew how I was supposed to feel. I was supposed to hate Master Pelham for treating me the way he did and the faceless dealer who forced such an existence onto me, but I had nothing to base those ill feelings on. How could I hate anyone for allowing me to live? 

Much to my dismay, he didn't dwell on the matter. "It still bothers me, your brand. You were taken so young. If this is the work of an exclusive slaver, we have a serious problem on our hands. Are there others out there like you?"

Although his mind seemed to have otherwise wandered, he didn't exert his frustration as he worked his way to my lower back. 

I had nothing to say in return and the awkward silence that followed lasted for a few minutes. Sedgar then rubbed my shoulder definitively. "You're done. Now it's your turn to do me."

I nodded, and we simultaneously spun on our seats to change over. Although Sedgar's words were bossy, the manner in which he delivered it was polite. I had always washed my own back, as did the other filthy rats, and we took to our designated stations in silent embarrassment. 

As Sedgar showed his back to me, I felt my hand clench onto the sponge tighter in muted horror.

His back had suffered worse than his front, ridden with bold crimson arches of varying ages yet blending into a single lesson of discipline. I didn't need to hear the stories of the lashings that had broken skin before it even had the chance to heal. Even months, maybe years later, his back looked so fragile and I was afraid any pressure might rip the skin off altogether. 

As Sedgar said though, the abuse was nothing compared to the brand that stared back at me. It was a ghastly image, circular in design with entwined random lines branching within it. Fat Joey's signature took pride between Sedgar's shoulder blades and there it would remain forever. 

The brand was a blemish that would last his entire lifetime, physically and mentally, and at long last I finally understood: without that detestable brand, he would never have sustained any of his other scars.


	8. Life Lessons

Seeing Sedgar's naked body had given me a lot to mull over. Underneath his kind smile was a body battered beyond belief and, true to his word, he continued to wear his high necks to hide the nasty reminders of his past life. Even so, I could still see his brand under the fabric whenever he turned his back, and each time I wondered how hard he had cried or screamed.

I knew nothing of his life as a slave and I wasn't interested in the slightest.

Sedgar never seemed to grow tired of me, and constantly thought of new things to teach me every day. Sedgar called them 'life lessons', imparting a little more of himself onto me and for the most part they never stopped. When it was dinner (a weird orange soup and bread too fresh), he convinced me I deserved it for my training each morning. He managed to coerce me to spend one night on the bed, and I soon learnt the hard way that the extra hours of sleep were not worth it. If possible I had felt more tired when I finally woke up, missed my entire morning routine and as a result refused to touch my evening meal. When I returned to the floor the very next night, Sedgar knew there was nothing he could do to change my mind.

He tried to teach me the history of Aurelis through literature and the family tree of its rulers. He soon realised that I was unable to read the text he showed me, and he was quick to adjust the classes accordingly. Although I tried my best to distinguish each letter and repeat the words he taught me, he knew what my limits were and we would walk into town when he knew I was struggling to maintain concentration. Each visit didn't make me enjoy the town any more than the last time, but I soon came to accept that people didn't look twice at me on the streets and, like me, were happy to mind their own business.

Mondo the jeweller apparently wasn't the only one Sedgar was friendly with. Sedgar shook what felt like every vendor's hand in greeting, and after a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries with them, he would then introduce me to each of them. He bought me local fruit to try, laughing at the faces I pulled but making a mental note of what I liked and what I didn't all the same. There was also a small bakery that he frequented, and after a while I found myself eating sweet, occasionally seeded, bread as we left.

During one such visit to the town, Sedgar took me to a square where it seemed the rest of Aurelis was. We stood on the outskirts as the masses fought to go from one end of the square to the other. A single voice called out above all the chatter, repeating the same thing over and over again: "Purple haired youth, taken roughly 20 years ago."

I had no idea why we were there until Sedgar had to explain that the announcement was referring to me. He apologised that there was no further information to go on, but he reassured me this was the best Prince Hardin could do to locate my family.

I wanted to ask why. I had no place to return to; that was gone the moment Prince Hardin took me away from the Pelhams. What was the point obtaining me, only to see if anyone else would take me in? I knew I wasn't good enough for him yet – that was why I devoted the early hours training. Prince Hardin didn't need soldiers who couldn't fight, and every day I had to prove I was making progress.

I had to work harder so Prince Hardin would _want_ to keep me.

Sedgar told me that of the other filthy rats that had left the Pelham Estate, most had returned to their families in this manner. There were one or two who chose to serve the army, and he reassured me that I would one day reunite with them as comrades in arms. I had looked away and retorted, "I'd rather not." They had all hated me and I didn't acknowledge them; that was how it always was and how it'd always be.

In the evenings or even during the day if Prince Hardin summoned him, Sedgar would leave me in the care of Zed. He said that I needed to associate with my peers, learn from them and also for them to learn from me.

Zed generally didn't say very much and seemed to take permanent residence in the stables, sewing bundles of leather together as easily as someone patching clothes. He was much older and more experienced than I was, and I grew to respect his silence. His good eye would glance up at me from time to time as I silently took to grooming the horses and gauge their temperaments. Zed would call out random names as I worked on each one. Once we grew used to each other, he allowed me to sit next to him to observe his craftsmanship and told me about the equipment he was repairing in few words.

Every time Sedgar came to retrieve me, even before he opened his mouth, all sense of diligence and tranquillity shattered instantly. I would stop whatever I was doing and return obediently to his side. Sedgar would always then thank Zed excessively, and tell me to thank him and say goodbye as well. I was used to slinking out without a word, and after the first few times my words of parting became an automatic response.

There were soldiers who would drift into the stables to exercise their horses, and I would watch them from afar. I observed various techniques of how to apply the very equipment Zed repaired, each mount's reaction to being prepped and each rider's unique way of calming them.

On the first day I came to Zed in the afternoon, he said he liked to exercise his horse in the late afternoon. Every evening without fail, regardless of the weather, he would ride Sienna to the prairie and watch the sunset. When he invited me to come along, I managed to contain my excitement in a single nod. The prairie was a place only seen in dreams and words, and if Zed allowed it, I wanted to see it myself.

He prepared his mount (a fine mare almost as taciturn as he was) and one for me with tremendous skill before we set out. A few other soldiers joined in this expedition, perhaps for the company or for fresh air.

We rode in pairs, Zed taking the helm and me at the rear as I was not used to riding. Someone called Fraser coached me all the way and encouraged my progress. It wasn't long before I couldn't feel anything from the waist down, and I found that talking to him was a good distraction. I think I said a few things that were apparently amusing, for Fraser would often laugh at my comments and make the people in front turn their heads curiously.

The scenery thinned as we reached the outskirts of the prairie, and it was only when I dared to look behind me that I realised how far we had come. The grass grew wild here and stretched endlessly, free to grow wherever it so desired. There was nothing else in sight, just the vastness of life that touched all corners of the earth in a blanket of yellow and green. It was absolutely stunning because of its imperfection.

How could any of the nobles say that Lady Pelham's gardens were any better than this?

Fraser helped me dismount before joining his comrades out on the field. The others rode to their heart's content, laughing and racing each other as they trampled on the grass and yet somehow not making a dent on the terrain. The horses too whinnied in delight as they kicked up green blades under their hooves, and seemed so much happier out here than they did in the stables.

Zed was the only other one who had dismounted, and I silently took a place next to him to watch the sun inch ever closer to the horizon. He acknowledged my presence with a small smile, and like every time in the stables, we didn't exchange unnecessary words.

I closed my eyes to listen to the wind, letting it whisper to my tired body. The stronger winds from my right felt refreshing through my tangled hair. I was completely relaxed, until Zed nudged my arm slightly to tell me in his stoic way it was time. I hadn't realised how fleeting sunset was, and we continued to watch the orange orb disappear from view ever faster until it faded completely.

Zed came out here solely to watch this every single day, and he would watch it all over again tomorrow.

When the skies started to paint the clouds amber, he asked me his only question that whole evening: "Isn't it beautiful?"

Since that day, I had foolishly thought that the reason he came to the prairie every evening was to take in the splendid scenery. I didn't know what was really on his mind until the day he died.


	9. Happiest Memory

When Sedgar first came for me in the training room, he had said it was too early to get me involved. It took him four months to finally accept I wanted to be a soldier, and eventually we got into a routine of sparring for a few short minutes as our way of saying good morning. He was skilled with a sword, but he was like every other man I had sparred with: predictable. With each match, Sedgar's habits became increasingly apparent to me, and it was only when he asked that I could disclose my observations. As Odessa had mentioned all that time ago, Sedgar took me to the castle armourer to find the best sword for me. I was also provided with armour, and although it proved to be uncomfortable to start off with, I grew accustomed to it. 

I could only think that Sedgar kept Prince Hardin informed of my progress, for it wasn't long before Prince Hardin requested for me to join him on one of his expeditions. Sedgar had seemed concerned at first and wanted to come too, however like I had been told every other time, he was the one instructed to stay at home.

Prince Hardin only took a small entourage with him to visit Duke Reuven. There was only about five of us altogether, and I exchanged words of greeting and thanks as Fraser passed the reins to me. 

It had been a long time since I had been in Prince Hardin's presence, and it felt strangely natural to be around him. He made me ride beside him, for he too apparently wanted to make the most of our time together. He talked of Aurelis and his 'boring affairs' (his words) for a brief while before pounding me with questions about how I was settling in. Was Sedgar a good teacher? Were his life lessons what I had expected and had I had the chance to make new friends? 

Each time he asked for further information, and I found myself talking a lot more than I had intended. I had a lot of experiences, and he wanted to hear every single one in detail. Not just what happened, but what my views were and how I felt. When I eventually got onto the messenger in the square, pleading for someone to claim me as family, Prince Hardin admitted that no one had come forward for me. He apologised guiltily, and his expression made me feel guilty as well for thinking at the time that he was trying to discard me.

And then, once my tongue had loosened considerably, Prince Hardin asked an obscure question.

"In your memory, your entire life has been with the Pelhams. During your time there, what was your happiest memory? Even someone like you has one."

I nodded, and I sat up straighter on my horse to trace a line with two fingers across my breastplate. "I have a scar just across here. I got it from a friendly match with one of Lord Pelham's guests. I was always supposed to lose, and when the time was right, I purposefully slack my wrist when I countered. I misjudged how frustrated he was, and in hindsight, I should have taken a step back. I would have bled out if Master Pelham hadn't helped me."

Prince Hardin narrowed his eyes, but I knew he wanted me to elaborate. "The match was finished in any case. I was delirious and can't remember much of what happened afterwards, but I remember Master Pelham cradling my head, shouting at his father's guest, or maybe even Lord Pelham. He said that I was the best he had. Even though I was in absolute agony, I had never felt so happy." Master Pelham could have let me die and bring home another filthy rat to resume my place, but he had leapt to my defence. My years of effort paid off in that one evening, and he allowed me to live. 

Prince Hardin gave a curt nod. "Remember how you felt within and treasure it." He suddenly stopped and dismounted, beckoning for me to do so as well. "We're going to become the happiest memory for many, and I want you to experience it for yourself. Follow my lead and I'm going to give you one order, which I need you to listen to very carefully."

I nodded. I felt very uncertain about this mission, but I would carry out his instructions as necessary. 

"When I tell you to wait by the horses, I want you to rally the slaves and take them there. In essence, I want you to ignore a direct instruction and get Duke Reuven's slaves out. I don't know how many there'll be, but I need you to move swiftly. Can you do it?"

I glanced at the other soldiers. They all seemed to be settling down and very relaxed. Fraser was doing maintenance on one of the cart's wheels whilst one of his colleagues tried to give him a sandwich. "I'm going in alone?"

Prince Hardin turned on his heel, steering my shoulder to make me walk beside him. "They'll be ready for us when we're done. Don't look so worried."

Duke Reuven hadn't been expecting our arrival, and what sentences he had of flowery greeting came out as garbled words. His butler opened the door wider to allow us in, and the splendid atrium within was basked in natural inviting sunlight. I took note of Duke Reuven's heavy robes as we approached him; maybe the sheer weight of it was the reason why he was so stout. 

The duke led us through the house, muttering things to Prince Hardin that I couldn't make out. Prince Hardin seemed to be preoccupied in discussing matters with him, and I found myself examining every inch of the house as I hung back. In a way, it mirrored the Pelham Estate, from the immaculate staircase and the endless rooms that branched off the main hall.

We settled down in what I assumed was the Green Room. The Pelhams had named rooms like this to compliment colours, and seemed to be a common theme in aristocratic houses. There was a piano on the other side of the room, no doubt used for entertainment at small gatherings like this. Green walls were otherwise veiled by a large tapestry of some glorious battle, and the nobles took their places on the settee that faced this display. Prince Hardin caught my eye and silently told me to sit with him. 

Prince Hardin and Duke Reuven talked of matters that I couldn't follow. It seemed pointless for me to be in their company, and I would have disappeared in the settee itself if I wasn't perched on the edge and afraid to move. I shouldn't be a guest in this house; I shouldn't be here.

There was a knock at the door, and Prince Hardin stopped mid-sentence as the same butler entered the room with refreshments. 

The three of us watched in silence as the red-haired man brought the tray over and set it on the table. The man was too broad-shouldered to be serving, too careful with the silvery. His hair was styled carefully, but I could still see the dirt and grime that clung to every other strand. It was like looking at me those years I served the Pelhams, instead I was on the receiving end. His gloved hand shook slightly as he placed the strainer on one cup. 

Prince Hardin seemed to notice this too. "Your servant appears to be nervous," he said lightly.

Duke Reuven shrugged. "Trent has served a lot of people, but he's never served the likes of a prince. Have you Trent?"

The man didn't take his eyes off his work to answer. "No sir."

Prince Hardin laughed softly. "You're doing a wonderful job, Trent. I dare say that my servants aren't nearly as diligent as you. I hope Duke Reuven pays you well for your services."

Trent looked up briefly, not at Prince Hardin for the compliment, but at Duke Reuven. Unlike the duke, he was well-composed and didn't appear to be under pressure. That didn't mean to say that he wasn't, for I knew the look in his blue eyes all too well. He was looking for the right answer. 

"Yes sir," he managed. He continued to fill everyone's beverages, including mine.

Prince Hardin leaned forwards slightly to retrieve his drink himself, completely losing interest in Duke Reuven as he continued to direct his conversation at Trent. "I take it you have a family to support. Do you see them often?"

Another awkward glance at the duke. "I have a wife and a young daughter." Trent didn't elaborate how often he saw them, but his reluctance was enough. 

"How fitting," Prince Hardin remarked. He continued to smile, but I knew he was picking up the signs as easily as I was. "Wolf here hasn't had much good fortune with women, so if you can spare the time, could you give him a few tips? He's fairly new and could do with a mentor."

Prince Hardin ignored Duke Reuven's look of bewilderment. He was interested in Trent's every move. Perhaps his outlandish comments about me were meant to be amusing, for the corners of Trent's mouth twitched as he fought down a grin and lowered his head slightly to further disguise his amusement. 

"I imagine you have a wonderful courtyard." Prince Hardin turned his head slightly. "Wolf, go with him. I have a few more things I'd like to discuss with Duke Reuven. I'm not sure how long I'll be, so go ahead and wait for me by the horses once you're finished."

I nodded slowly as I got onto my feet. This was where the mission truly started. Duke Reuven lived in this house alone, and so long as Prince Hardin kept the duke occupied here, I could move about the house freely. I didn't need to be told twice. "Understood."

Trent and I left the Green Room without a further word to our respective masters, but as soon as the doors closed, Trent had apparently left his composed side in the Green Room. He clapped both his hands on my shoulders enthusiastically, forcing me to take a step backwards to keep my balance. "You're really here, aren't you?" he exclaimed in a restrained whisper. "Prince Hardin's finally come to free us, hasn't he? I thought the day would never come."

I forced his hands off me, biting on my lower lip to prevent me from snapping. "We don't have a lot of time, Trent. You know the house better than I do; show me where the others are."

The redhead waved a hand as he led the way. "I feel like a free man already. Trent's my slave name; call me Vyland from now on."


	10. Rejection and Regression

Once I returned from Duke Reuven's Estate, it didn't take long for things to return to normal. Sedgar didn't press me for details about how the mission went, choosing to ask the questions the next morning once I had recovered. It was a gesture that I appreciated – I had underestimated how large the house was and I was both physically and mentally drained as soon as I returned to the castle. 

It only took a few weeks before all mannerisms of normal turned out to be short-lived.

Sedgar and I often chose to have our dinner a bit later to ensure that there would be a table free for us. Each table seated four, so it wasn't uncommon for people to join us when there wasn't room anywhere else. We didn't usually associate with other people as they took the empty seats, and for the most part they weren't interested in Sedgar's usually odd choice in conversation topic. 

It was only by chance that I caught Vyland's eye as his eyes flitted for a spare space. I had looked away a bit too late and I inwardly hoped that someone else would snatch the seats next to us before he came. 

Quite predictably, my wish didn't come true.

"Hi, it's good to see you again."

Sedgar stopped mid-sentence about carrots to glance over his shoulder at the source of the voice. His eyes darted to me in curiosity. 

I knew all of Sedgar's life lessons on manners. Despite life with the Pelhams, it was now considered rude not to say anything in greeting. I couldn't be nearly as enthusiastic as Sedgar – I knew that much without trying it out for myself. I managed a stiff nod instead. "You too." 

Vyland laughed as he confidentially set his tray down next to Sedgar. He was more fresh-faced than I recalled, with high cheekbones that accentuated a handsome face. He too was dressed in a tunic, the smart tailcoat that he wore presumably burned or torn to tatters to hide his shame. "I don't think I need to say again how grateful I am to you. I'm Vyland, by the way," he said as he raised a hand to Sedgar. "Sorry to barge in like this – a friend of…my saviour is my friend. Now I think about it, I don't think I ever asked for your name," he addressed to me.

Sedgar took the outstretched hand, but he gave me a pointed look. He didn't need to say anything; I knew exactly what he wanted me to do.

I sighed resignedly. I guessed it was about time, considering how many people Sedgar had introduced to me. "My name's Wolf. Sedgar's my mentor. Vyland and I met at Duke Reuven's Estate."

It wasn't much of an introduction, but it served its purpose. Sedgar's face lit up in realisation and offered a big smile to the muscular man. "You haven't been here long then – welcome. Will you be going home or have you enlisted?"

Vyland gave a nervous laugh as he pulled out his chair. Evidently, the conversation was enough to convince him to help himself. "That's an interesting story. I had originally planned to return to my wife and kid. I remember the roads well and once Prince Hardin let me freshen up here, that was exactly what I did." He looked across at me before continuing. "So after eight years, I finally walk down the streets a free man. Will they recognise me? How beautiful were they now? That was what I was thinking when I went to the house."

Sedgar nodded slowly. "And did they recognise you?"

"That's the funny thing: I bailed at the last minute." Vyland snatched up his spoon and made a start on his dinner. "I saw them all right. They were at the table having something that smelt absolutely wonderful. I recognised them instantly, and in a heartbeat it was like I was coming home from work rather than years of slavery. I left Iris when she was five, so to suddenly see a teenager with her mother's looks at the table…that's a sight I'll never forget." Vyland narrowed his eyes somewhat. "But they weren't alone; whilst I was gone, Iris had a father to bring her up."

I couldn't say I knew Vyland well, but in our brief encounter I knew how much his family meant to him. He never stated whether he saw them whilst he was with Duke Reuven, however reason told me he hadn't seen them in eight years. 

Even though he had somewhere to return home to, he was no longer part of it. His family belonged to someone else. Instead of charging in and claiming what was his, Vyland went against his boisterous nature and had chosen not to defile that perfect picture.

It must have been a hard decision, but he had thought that the best recourse. 

"I reckon I would have been a terrible father anyway," Vyland said airily. "I'm far too immature and I'd be a bad influence." He downed a considerable amount of his soup at record speed, and as he tilted his bowl, I noticed his left hand was slightly discoloured. He was quick to direct the conversation away from him. "How about you? Did either of you go back?"

I stared harder into the depths of my bowl of orange sludge, yet my ears piqued slightly. I had never posed the question to Sedgar and I had convinced myself I didn't need to know, yet it had come out so naturally for Vyland.

Sedgar struggled to find the right words initially. "I did, but like anything, it wasn't quite what I expected. My parents had no idea why I had disappeared or what had happened to me, and I owed an explanation to them. I didn't tell them the horrible details; I just told them the necessary facts, and I could tell that the more I revealed, the guiltier they felt. Once that conversation was over and done with, I knew they were trying to make up for the lost years. They tiptoed around me and tried to be helpful to make me comfortable. By doing that, they actually made things worse and it was awkward being around them. I struggled to connect with them and them me." Sedgar shrugged. "In the end, I decided I couldn't stay with them anymore."

"You still visit them or at least write to them, don't you?" Vyland said sternly.

"Very rarely," Sedgar admitted. "I have a purpose here. I don't need to be someone I'm not; everyone here has been through the exact same experience, if not worse, and I can do my bit to alleviate the pain. Even if I don't have a place to return to, many do, and I'll do whatever it takes to bring them home."

Vyland raised his glass. "You're a commendable man. I couldn't agree more." Sedgar smiled as he too raised his glass and the two met it with a satisfactory clink.

I was almost jealous of how quickly they got on. Vyland had managed to accomplish more than I had done in months, exchanging information effortlessly. He was confident and had more natural charm than I could ever flounce. It was hard to believe that this was the same Trent that had maintained absolute composure in the presence of his master's watchful eye.

Sedgar also seemed to thrive in the conversation, and like a mirror image he reflected Vyland's vibrant attitude and could keep up with everything he was thinking and saying. If anything, he was completely at ease with Vyland and they could easily have known each other for years. 

Once again I had been taken out of the picture. I was perfectly content with that; now that I had introduced them to each other, I had no further part to play.

I stirred my soup in disinterest. I wasn't even hungry anymore. I could never eat the entire portion anyway, and it had become custom to leave a little more than half. Someone else could easily occupy my space and not waste the food. 

Although Vyland noticed my lack of enthusiasm, he didn't let that deter him. 

"What about you, Wolf? What about your family?"

I saw Sedgar give Vyland a pointed look, but the latter disregarded it. It was just as well; much like Sedgar's parents, I too didn't want him to fight my battles for me. I didn't need protecting; I could fend for myself if necessary. "My parents are dead."

Sedgar shook his head. "You don't know that for sure."

Although what Sedgar said was true, the concept of family had only crossed my mind recently. I never had any reason to think of family when I was with the Pelhams; that was my way of life and nothing had been before or beyond that. 

Prince Hardin's efforts to find my family had proved to be fruitless. Too much time had passed, much longer than the eight years Vyland's family had waited. The silence had only confirmed what I already knew.

"Sorry to hear that, mate." Vyland gave me an awkward look before raising his glass again. If I didn't know for a fact the kitchen only served water, I would have thought it was the alcohol talking. "Still, that's what friends are all about."

I got onto my feet, ignoring the horrible screech of wood scraping across stone. He had crossed a line and he had been too ignorant to realise it. My growing respect for him dissolved in an instant. He knew absolutely nothing about me, yet he had somehow crawled into my skin and was trying to break me from inside. I wasn't going to tolerate this. 

"We're not friends," I spat, and for the first time in my life, I left without approval.


	11. Once There was a Slave Called Marlow

"Wolf. Wolf, wait."

I walked briskly, lowering my head slightly as I charged down the corridor. My fists clenched tighter as Vyland's words continued to circle my head. I had met him on two counts and that somehow seemed to be enough for him to call me a friend. Vyland knew absolutely nothing about me. 

I had no need of friends. My only purpose was to serve Prince Hardin, and getting to know my peers made no contribution to that. My peers will die around me one way or another. I couldn't rely on people who will fade over time – the only one I could ever count on was me.

How dare him. 

I swerved sharply into the training room, the emblem of sanctuary gleaming above the doorframe as a welcome invitation. 

Sedgar wasn't far behind me, and I could see him at the corner of my eye as I busied myself with a target. It was a heavy plank of wood, but I bared my teeth slightly as I dragged it across the room.

"Vyland was only trying to be friendly."

I didn't say anything, securing the target in place and making sure it was propped up well against the back wall. I had done it many times before, in the early mornings when there was no one to spar with. I made very brief eye contact with Sedgar as I brushed past him.

Vyland's intrusion had showed me all the flaws since joining the ranks. Now that I was taking a step back, I could see the full picture. How foolish of me to let these meaningless encounters cloud my judgment. Was I really this stupid? 

I had learnt everything that I needed to know. Now I had to surpass them all.

"If you don't move out the way, I might shoot you," I said tersely as I gathered my equipment of a short bow and a prepared set of arrows. I took my place a good distance from the target as I secured my hip quiver. There was no telling what my frustration could do to my aim.

Sedgar heeded my warning and made to walk beside me as I fired my first. It hit the target with a dull thud that reverberated across an otherwise empty room, and another arrow followed in quick succession. "You need to relax."

"Shut up." The third was off mark and the fourth missed the target entirely. I had taught myself archery by training and watching others. I knew already that my shoulders needed to be loose. 

When I had exhausted my supply of arrows, Sedgar was all too quick to retrieve them. I let him, allowing him to slot the arrows back into the quiver.

I soon lost count how many rounds I had fired, how many times Sedgar went up to retrieve the array of sticks. Anger still seethed in my hands and the bow it was supporting, each attempt fiercer than the previous. 

Sometimes Sedgar would say words of encouragement, but for the most part kept quiet. He had followed me to get me to apologise to Vyland, but that didn't seem to be his agenda anymore. Why was he still here? 

"Do you like Vyland?" I said cautiously as I lowered my bow. 

"He's an interesting character," Sedgar chose to reply. 

"Do you consider him a friend?" I pressed. I had the feeling that Sedgar was missing the point entirely, why I was so angry about his audacity. 

"That was the first time I met him. It's too early to determine anything," he called back as he crossed the room. He retrieved an arrow to turn round and point it at me. His next comments confirmed he knew what I was trying to imply. "You, however, are different. You remind Vyland of his freedom. Coyote may have been the one who rescued him, but you were the one who gave him his life back. You can't blame him for putting you in such high regard." 

I scowled. Prince Hardin wasn't exaggerating when he was saying that we would be their happiest memory. I hadn't expected these repercussions.

Segar grimaced as he slotted the arrows into my quiver and held one out to me. "To be honest, I was a little insulted when you introduced me as your mentor. We've known each other for months now. I enjoy spending time with you – don't you?"

I exhaled sharply as I took the arrow from him. 

It wasn't a case of whether I liked his company or not; Sedgar was to teach me how to behave because my master otherwise didn't have the time. I needed to be useful, and learning from Sedgar was one way to do that. 

That was all Sedgar was, and yet…

I stared harder at Sedgar, looking for the right answer. Who was he to me?

"I respect you," I said stiffly, and even those words left my lips begrudgingly. 

I watched Sedgar walk away to retrieve a bow of his own. "You need to stop holding people at arm's length. You get along with Zed, don't you? You have Fraser as well, and there are going to be a lot more in the future. You can't go on like this forever; you'll actually come to love each and every one of them, even if you don't mean to, and that's nothing to be afraid of."

He slung a back quiver over one shoulder. "Relying on one another is not a weakness, far from it. We know each other's strengths and shortfalls, but more than anything we make up the difference as a team. It's okay to cry or laugh, smile or get angry. It's okay to show what you feel, even if you're afraid. It's okay to say what you think – you know Vyland and me, we can't seem to stop." He held up a hand apologetically. "Tell me how you feel. Please."

I looked away and resumed my training. My anger had ebbed away considerably, although I couldn't really say for sure why. My eyes narrowed as I concentrated on the rings of colour ahead. "I don't mind it, actually. You talking, that is. I've long gotten used to you." I could still hear Vyland's irritating voice in my head. My eyes looked across at him before I released my arrow. "At the end of the day though, we're disposable." Where Sedgar would befriend anyone and everyone, I couldn't.

"Perhaps, but it won't be by Prince Hardin's hand." Sedgar gave a slow nod. "Until then, we can afford to live a little. You're my friend, Wolf. I want you to embrace life and realise there's more to it than duty."

I fired my final arrow for the purpose of retrieving them myself. Sedgar was trying to coerce me back into a sense of security. I admired his persistence, how he never seemed to give up on me. Didn't he say something like that in our first meeting? Wasn't he doing that because it was Prince Hardin's will?

And yet, I couldn't fight down the growing feeling of satisfaction. The way he had called me a friend had a nice tone to it, much nicer than Vyland's.

When I returned, Sedgar motioned for me to stand down. "On the battlefield, archers need to be composed at all times. No matter how many of our own die, our aim must be perfect. Our resources are limited and not one arrow can go to waste. Shall I demonstrate?" 

I gave a slow nod. I hadn't realised that Sedgar was comfortable with a bow as well. 

"Once there was a slave called Marlow," Sedgar started as he nocked his arrow. "He was a bad slave to start with, and he floated from household to household for a long time. Each time he changed hands, he was returned to his maker and disciplined. Eventually one family tolerated his constant blunders. It suited them and their cruel taste – even a terrible slave has their uses."

One shot at the outer ring.

"Four years later, the prince of the nation couldn't turn a blind eye any longer on these mistreatments across his nation, and he got in touch with the family Marlow served. The family were well aware of what the prince's intentions were. They were a subservient family, a family that royalty otherwise had no interest in. They penned in a date for a meeting, and made preparations beforehand."

The second hit the next ring in. "On the day the prince was due to visit, the slaves of the household were executed that morning. One solid gash across the neck with a kitchen knife; shock will do the rest." Sedgar bit his lower lip before firing his third. "They were herded to the stables, and Marlow loaded his dying comrades into a compost bin with one of his colleagues. Marlow ignored those on the side lines waiting to die, afraid to cry and afraid to run. When they were all in there, Marlow wasn't far behind."

Sedgar breathed harder and his chest rose with each deep inhale, but he continued to fire with absolute composure. His right hand shook as he continued to nock his arrows, but his left remained absolutely still. "The lid closed above him. It was dark, absolutely dark, and cramped. His comrades choked on their own blood and the weight of those atop them crushed them. 23 men and women clutched their throats, ever praying, ever clinging onto what life they had. There were no words, just moans and splutters that echoed in the confined space. Marlow's heart pounded in his head, both a blessing and a curse as his blood pulsed out of his open wound. One by one the gurgles died down. Panic killed the others quicker."

I lowered my head slightly. It was a story Sedgar didn't share out of choice, and I had finally come to understand why he didn't. If I had known how it was going to end, I would have told him to stop a long time ago. "I'm sorry."

I wasn't sure what else to say, but that was enough for Sedgar. He gave a sad smile before firing his final arrow. It hit the centre, but only just. "Coyote saw the carnage that day, and we swore such a tragedy won't happen again. I lost everyone, but I've made new friends since, friends that I'll do a better job protecting. Life is precious and short." He lowered his bow and rubbed at his face with his free hand. 

I gave a resigned groan. After retelling his worst memory, I couldn't fight with Sedgar any longer. "Fine. I'll apologise to Vyland, but only because it's you."


	12. A Sense of Pride

Sedgar was a man of principle, but he was also a man of shrewdness. After confessing my respect for him, he pulled a number of tricks to see how far he could push me. For the most part they were petty, such as stealing my fork and tampering with the saddle Zed had given me to fix, but they were only the tip of the iceberg. 

In actuality, he was only easing me into the annoyance that was Vyland. 

Since Vyland moved into the same dormitory as us, matters were never quite the same. His roommates were unruly as well, but for some reason despite their similar temperament Vyland didn't get along with them. I didn't ask whether Vyland asked to stay with us or whether Sedgar offered – it seemed to happen overnight and without first consulting me. 

Vyland took to the lower bunk, saying that he would probably break the top one, and often he and Sedgar would have late conversations to burn what felt like an endless supply of energy. He had asked me outright why I still slept on the floor, but I had rolled my eyes and deemed it unnecessary to answer.

I regarded Vyland's invasion as another of Sedgar's life lessons, one of tolerance and patience. Even with his excessive and mostly pointless chatter, I needed to remain calm. It was an incredibly cruel lesson and one I thought would be impossible to pass, however failure was not an option.

On the third night since Vyland took residence in our room, I realised that Vyland was incapable of being quiet, even when he was asleep. It aggravated me slightly how I still had to put up with him in the early hours, but I chose to ignore him that night, swiftly getting dressed and heading out for my usual lonely training.

Vyland growled slightly as I crouched beside him the next night. Perhaps it was a combination of both Vyland's and Sedgar's mischief that made me want to engage. Perhaps it was because I knew that neither of them would remember in the morning that compelled me to be a little adventurous. 

"The bears. The bears are coming."

Sedgar's choice of conversation had a tendency of being bizarre, a lecture or otherwise dangerously heavy, but the dream world of Vyland was something else entirely.

"We have to protect the mustard."

A part of me wondered why I was listening to this. Was sleep talking contagious? If I stayed around for too long, would I end up talking such drivel? "The mustard?"

Vyland made a noise of affirmation. 

"The mustard has to fight for itself. Leave it." I cast a wary glance at Sedgar. If he woke up now and knew what I was doing…

"We have to protect the mustard," Vyland repeated sleepily. "The bears…they're coming."

I sighed. Talking in his sleep was even more painful than it was during the day. I had to remain composed in the face of idiocy. "How are you going to stop them?" There was no reply, so I repeated the question a little louder.

Vyland's shoulders shifted noisily as he rearranged his blanket. "Valour," he mumbled simply. 

I exhaled sharply in surprise, partly because he said something that make sense and partly because of his honesty. Even though he didn't know what he was talking about, he was speaking from the heart. He had the makings down to the core, leaving nothing but pure allegiance. 

Vyland was a blundering fool, but with the right training he would make a fine soldier.

When they found me in the grounds taking on the duo Jason and Kyle, I was in no mood to stop. I dismissed the duo and told Vyland to spar with me. Vyland himself was a bit put off by it, asking if I was feeling all right, but Sedgar encouraged it and said he would offer us guidance from an outsider's perspective. 

Vyland knew I had trained for several hours beforehand, so he wrongly assumed he had the upper hand. He hadn't expected me to be quite so brutal, disarming him of Sedgar's borrowed sword with ease in his bullish attempts to strike me. I had learnt a lot from other people, and it was my turn to impart some of my tactics onto him. He was a loose cannon, that I couldn't change, but maybe I could train him so his brute force would hit first time on the battlefield.

It was a strange sensation, teaching someone. I had learnt through experience and watching, but Vyland could never be as observant as me. I had no experience in teaching methods, yet as I barked at Vyland to relax his hand or watch his footwork, I knew what I was doing. For someone who had never held a sword before, he had a lot to learn. 

It felt odd commanding Vyland and he too wasn't receptive at first, but after a while he listened to me. Each time I disarmed him or his face hit the ground, he picked himself back up and didn't give up. His front steadily got dirtier and his arm grew slacker, but he persisted because I told him to maintain concentration. His focus seemed to have a direct impact on his mouth, and his silence was a welcome by-product. 

His determination was about the one thing I could commend him for. I was in no rush to admit that though as I continued to criticise Vyland.

Soldiers, Jason and Kyle included, started to fringe the outskirts, watching me push Vyland to the absolute limits. I may have sparred with them all at one point, I couldn't remember. I always sparred in silence; no one ever knew what I was thinking and many probably hadn't heard me speak the way I was now. Sedgar, despite his comment earlier, had nothing to contribute and he too watched the one-sided match in earnest.

"You seem to be a natural, Wolf."

It was a sight that I had long forgotten about, but I moved with the crowd as we saluted Prince Hardin in unison. I gave Vyland a pointed look, and he too realised what he was meant to do. How many months ago had that been me?

And, like the time before, Prince Hardin was not pleased with the sight. He sighed heavily as he made his way through the parting crowd to us. "It's wonderful to see you in good health, Trent. I hope Wolf's treating you well." 

Vyland grinned, wasting no time in taking the prince's outstretched hand. "I'm honoured you remember me, sir. The name's Vyland now."

"I apologise if I brought up any bad memories," Prince Hardin said courteously. 

"Not at all," Vyland was quick to answer before casing a sideways glance at me. "It's really tough getting Wolf to like me, but I like to think I'm getting there. One day I'll get a smile out of him."

Prince Hardin gave a hearty laugh, and once again I seemed to be the humour point. "Let me know when you do. As far as I know, even Sedgar hasn't managed that."

Vyland gave a devious grin before he made to ruffle my hair. I could see him coming though, so I stepped to one side and elbowed him away from the prince. A few soldiers on the side-lines snickered as Vyland stumbled to regain his balance, and I inwardly found pleasure in watching the sight too.

The prince looked past both of us towards Sedgar. "Do you mind if I borrow Wolf for the day?"

I looked across at Sedgar as I sheathed my sword. Prince Hardin didn't need to ask for Sedgar to relieve me; I could do what I wanted, and Sedgar held me in as much regard as I did him. I looked into Sedgar's deep green eyes and I knew he had caught onto my train of thought. "Go easy on him," I said.

By some miracle, Sedgar managed to hear and gave a firm nod as he fingered his empty scabbard. 

I followed Prince Hardin out, and I could feel the others watching me as I did. I waited until I could hear the clashing of swords again before raising the question. "Why do you need me?"

Prince Hardin turned his head and waved a hand for me to walk beside him. "I still remember the first time I met you. You were a nervous wreck then, and you certainly weren't as lively as you are now. You've come a long way since then, much further than I expected. I hope you realise that as well."

I blinked slowly, keeping my gaze straight ahead. I had long grown used to the daunting corridors of the castle. If he said I was doing well, that was all the guidance I needed. 

"I am so very proud of you, Wolf," Prince Hardin continued. "You've had to adjust much more than the others, and you've done a brilliant job. It can't have been easy, but you've taken everything in stride and you've matured splendidly. I always look forward to hearing your progress from Sedgar, all the wonderful things you've accomplished. I soon found myself speaking highly of you to my brother, perhaps more than I should have. He'd like to meet you." 

"Meet me?" I recalled back to that strange map of lines and names that Sedgar tried to teach me all that time ago, of the Aurelian Royal Family and how they were interlinked. I couldn't read back then, but I remembered what Sedgar had said. Strictly speaking, Prince Hardin didn't have a brother; he had a half-brother by the name of King Baelis, the very one that governed Aurelis.

Prince Hardin nodded sternly. "He's very mellow, you'll like him. He's too kind for his own good, and that's part of his problem. He may ask you a lot of questions, but if you don't want to answer, he'll understand."

I shook my head slowly as I finally looked up at the prince. I served him, and I will show the same respect to his brother. It didn't matter whether I'd like him or not; I belonged to the Royal Family. "I have nothing to hide."

Prince Hardin laughed as he brought a hand to his temple. "I know you don't, but it's only human if you want to keep one or two secrets. If everyone was as honest as you, the continent would be a very different place."


	13. The King's Confession

The guards at the foot of the stairs saluted the prince, allowing us to pass without a word. As the staircase spiralled round, Prince Hardin noticed how I looked out every window we went by as we climbed higher. He explained that the castle itself was built on high ground to oversee the prairie in the event of an invasion.

As we walked down the wide corridor lined with marble busts and vases, I stopped at each one to admire the craftsmanship and embrace the history of the castle. I took in every word as Prince Hardin taught me who each of the figures were and what they did for Aurelis. They were mostly trusted advisers and strategists who had served the royal family long ago, and they had all in some way strengthened ties to neighbouring countries or otherwise led Aurelis to victory in long battles. They stared blankly at me as I examined their immaculate hairlines and perfect noses. 

It was only when Prince Hardin assured me that we can see everything after we had seen the King that I remembered why I was really there. I was absolutely ashamed with myself and hung my head in apology, but Prince Hardin didn't address my impertinence and simply gave his good-natured laugh. 

I kept a few paces behind Prince Hardin as he guided me to the King, admiring his back as his white cape trailed behind him. He rapped on a large set of double doors and didn't wait for a reply before entering. He opened the door wide and gave me a look to say I should follow him in.

The onslaught of vibrant red and gold was enhanced by the strong morning glow. The large window was open on one side and a mild breeze felt its way through the net curtains. Beyond that window was a stone wall, which I had reason to believe led onto a balcony. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, and yet it didn't fill the room whatsoever.

"Brother, sorry for the tardiness. As is natural, we got a little distracted. This here is Wolf, the one I told you about." 

A figure, buried in the mass of scarlet folds, set the papers to one side. The king was several metres away, but even from such a considerable distance I could tell he was a wizened man, old enough to be Prince Hardin's father rather than a brother. His hair, more white than brown, fell to his shoulders and over his ears. He flashed a kind smile at me, but it changed to a frown instantly as his brother helped himself to a seat. "Surely Nestor will be worried if you stayed?"

The prince laughed as he swung one leg over the other. "He'll live. It's not like the country will fall apart because we have a morning to ourselves."

King Baelis opened his mouth to protest, but let out a heavy sigh instead. "Do what you wish." The king beckoned for me to come over. I had no reason to be afraid of the king, no reason to feel nervous whatsoever, yet I couldn't feel my legs as I approached the bedside. I could see the resemblance of the prince in King Baelis' eyes, although they were set under stern silver eyebrows. His forehead was folded distinctly, even when his expression was neutral. "My brother has told me nothing but wonderful things of you. I can only apologise for meeting you in these circumstances."

I didn't want to ask what circumstances he was referring to, but mercifully I didn't need to. "My brother has a persistent illness," Prince Hardin called out. "It comes and goes, but more often than not he runs the country from the comforts of his duvet."

King Baelis rolled his eyes at the remark. 

"Is your illness curable?" I asked hesitantly.

The king gave a small smile. "We don't know. Fortunately, Aurelis is next door to Khadein, and the archbishop there saw to it that I have the best bishops at hand. I owe him a great deal. Khadein trains up mages and is a small city set in the desert."

"That's where we get the sandstorms from." In all the times Zed frequented the prairie, he came to understand a great deal of it. With each visit to the prairie, I could taste the sand in the western winds, the salt from the east. I could also pinpoint the origins of rain clouds, their speed and when it would break its banks. 

"That's right. So long as my health doesn't affect my work, I make every effort to see to this country's affairs. Nestor, my chief adviser, said that there is always a risk if I stray too far from Aurelis, so Hardin is often embarking on diplomatic trips on my behalf. It suits us; as you know, Hardin's a bit of a free spirit." 

Hardin gave a nonchalant shrug. "I do the odd trip to Akaneia purely for the journey. I belong out in the prairie, free to roam wherever I please. I'll let you keep the bureaucracy all to yourself."

I narrowed my eyes. Sedgar had told me that Prince Hardin assumed the name of Coyote to bury the fact he was a prince. It was a psychological method to bring the balance between ex-slaves and royalty (a notion that Sedgar himself had suggested and implemented), yet we always saluted him despite the prince's obvious disdain. He treated us all fairly and knew us all by name. Such a man, as Prince Hardin said, didn't belong in the grand halls of palaces, but in the wild fields of green.

"May I take your hand?"

As King Baelis lifted his own, lined with a web of bumpy veins and slack skin, I didn't see that I had any option but to take it. Despite all manner of appearances, it took me by surprise how soft his touch was. He placed his other hand on top of my own, cocooning it as a gesture of protection or possession.

"Even though Aurelis is under my rule, I was unable to see how much my people were suffering. Hardin was only young at the time, but he knew what was going on behind closed doors and told me to do something about it. The more I came to see it for myself, the more I chose to turn a blind eye. I could see the pain and the torment, the silent pleas for salvation, but I was afraid." He closed his eyes as he gripped onto my hand tighter. "Aurelis depends on nobility to survive; if the royal family couldn't accept the nobles, would that be the spark needed for a coup d'état? Would a civil war tip Aurelis over the edge?" 

King Baelis lifted his head slightly. "Hardin knew the dangers of rattling the aristocracy, but he went ahead with it anyway. He's made a tremendous effort to purge the corruption, all for the sake of liberating men like you. He knew your suffering, and he acted without considering the consequences." He sighed heavily. "I was weak; I still am. I failed you, and for that I cannot apologise enough."

I forced my hand out of his, and he didn't flinch. It dawned on me what he was trying to accomplish. Of course he would have an ulterior motive. Where in the past it wasn't my business to understand, I felt the dying embers of ferocity burn somewhere within me. It was rare of me to get remotely emotional, but today was proving a challenge.

The king didn't understand at all. 

"I trust that you are aware I know of no life beyond serving. My life of servitude was never a matter of choice, like how you are obliged to rule your country. My upbringing is no different to yours. If you think that I have suffered, you are gravely mistaken."

I looked across at Prince Hardin, who had been silent during the king's confession. "Your negligence cost good men their integrity. They were forced to lower their heads to survive. You continued to shake hands with nobles, knowing that the maids that took your coat or served you canapés were branded. You looked at them in the eye, and you turned your back on them. How many are dead because of you? How many are still dying because of you?"

I knew that I was speaking out of turn, but I kept my eyes on the prince for the signal for me to stop. I would gladly face any punishment later; I was speaking for Sedgar, Vyland, Zed, everyone who had suffered from King Baelis' neglect. Ordinary life was but a distant memory, and the brands at their napes reminded them of that forever more. The army was only a small proportion of survivors; there were many that had long given up hope and welcomed death.

It wasn't just the hardship of being undermined that was put into question; it was how many families had to cope without a father, a son, a wife. They had disappeared without a trace, leaving their families in a state of confusion and frustration. How many years had they spent wondering where they went wrong, or otherwise spent hating their loved ones? How many years did they cling onto blind hope before time forced them to let go and move on? 

I remembered Vyland's decision to let his family go. I remembered Sedgar's resolve to sever ties with his parents to avoid the looks of pity. Fraser's only living relative had died of grief. Kyle's wife was still missing. Aiden grew violent with his daughter's fiancé and was kicked out. So many others had stories as dismal as the next.

"I've been through nothing. Don't apologise to me; apologise to them." 

King Baelis had gotten the impression that I had suffered the most from the slave trade. He had thought that justifying his actions to me would make it up for everyone. There was no way that he could truly understand anything. 

King Baelis smiled softly. "I can understand why Hardin sees so much potential in you. You're smart, fearless and passionate. Your strong sense of justice enables you to love your peers unconditionally. Those traits cannot be taught. What you went through is unforgivable, but your love for your comrades is to be praised." He raised his hand again as a gesture of peace. "I ask of you one thing: can you still love Aurelis? Can you love the people who mistreated you and a king who allowed it to happen?"

If Vyland had been the one to ask, I would not have answered. I thought the answer was obvious, but my reply came out without hesitation. "I'm incapable of love; I merely state the facts. I serve Aurelis as it is Coyote's will."


	14. No Place for the Young

"You're not coming with us?"

I turned my head sharply at Sedgar, one hand caught guiltily mid-stroke on my horse's nose. Where Sedgar had managed to prepare and mount his horse, I had made no progress whatsoever. I had every intention of going, but that novelty had waned fairly quickly. "I'll go out with Zed later…if that's all right with you."

Sedgar looked over his shoulder for Vyland before nodding. "Of course. You'll know where to find us if you change your mind. Otherwise we'll be a couple of hours and I'll meet you in the library."

I kept a firm hold of my horse's reins as I watched my comrades set out. Vyland waved as he went by, but he was barely through the door before the pair then bolted for the prairie without a backwards glance. I stayed where I was until such time that someone wanted to ride and I wordlessly held out the reins to them.

My thoughts all the while I was waiting were on the boy in the corner. I had seen this particular boy in the stables a lot. Although Zed knew the horses like the back of his hand, he only imparted knowledge when people asked him. This boy acted as a more sociable deputy when it came to advising which horses had already been exercised. Only the higher-ranking soldiers had horses of their own, and everyone else tended to ride those as directed. He would ordinarily approach people as they came in, sometimes going so far as handing the reins straight over like I had just done, but more recently he would point or shout out the horse's names as appropriate whilst remaining beside one particular mare in particular by the name of Dreamweaver. I had noticed how he would get slightly defensive when people then asked about Dreamweaver, and although his hardened glare were a far cry from threatening, he still managed to successfully deter soldiers twice his size.

When I had asked Zed about him, he merely said that the boy was known as the horse expert. He was often around to keep tabs and undertake regular check-ups, but when he was focused on one like he was now, it often meant that there was something wrong and best to leave him to it. 

The boy looked up as I approached. His eyes were large, but they were trained and experienced. 

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you. If I may, I'd like to join you."

He gave a small smile. "As long as you don't intend to ride her, you can stay." He continued to brush the mare contently, but I noticed how his eyes would dart at me a few times. I pretended not to see as I squatted on his right side, and a small part of me started to wonder whether I was doing the right thing in engaging with a seemingly nice stranger. "You're Wolf, aren't you?" The boy couldn't quite contain the excitement in his voice. 

"What makes you think that?" I was quick to counter. I had never stated my business to anyone, not even those I sparred with.

"The one who was here earlier was Sedgar, wasn't it? Everyone knows and admire Sedgar as much as they do Coyote. Word spreads across the ranks quickly where they are concerned, even the smallest of details. You've managed to draw the attention of both of them, and by doing that you're a point of interest to the army as well. Secrets don't tend to be secrets for long. Is it true that the king summoned you?"

I watched him rhythmically brush Dreamweaver's coat and run his free soapy hand to smoothen it. "So what if he did?"

"And that Elle approved you?"

Since my training session with Vyland, people approached me from all sides wanting to be trained in the same way. I couldn't understand what they hoped to accomplish from it, but I complied because Sedgar had encouraged it. Elle wanted to ascertain my credibility and we had a long dual that ended in my first genuine defeat. By the end though, we left each other knowing more about each other. 

I didn't say anything, but the youth still continued to smile. "People have been saying that you're a genius with a sword and have natural talent in everything else."

Was that really what they called me? I was diligent and had every intention of proving my worth. My resilience and dedication were certainly higher than the likes of my comrades. That didn't make me a genius. "I understand you're called the horse expert; I take it that's your forte."

He nodded. "I've worked with horses all my life. My parents died early, so where my cousins would capture wild horses, I would break them. That is, make them docile and fit to ride," he clarified when he noticed my blank expression. "Coyote saw me as an asset because the others here are academics who merely researched about horses with no proper experience. I gladly accepted, but I don't think that the others took it particularly well." He set the brush in the bucket beside him and made to rub the horse's stomach. "You can call me Roshea though."

I watched the boy continue to work. If Coyote had seen so much potential in him, surely the soldiers would consider Roshea a point of interest as well? Was that status enough for soldiers to respect him as such?

Roshea shrugged. "Horses take years to fully mature and be suited for the army. My family is only one of many farms that provide the army with trained horses, so it's nice to be reunited with at least a few of my old companions again." 

We sat in a few moments of silence, and I could fully appreciate Roshea for what he was. If possible, he was as experienced as Zed despite being half his age. Had he grown up too fast from running the farm in the absence of his parents or from his time in captivity? 

"What's wrong with Dreamweaver?" I asked instead.

The horse, as though she had heard me, shook her head and snorted. Roshea laughed softly. "Absolutely nothing; she's pregnant. She's doing very well." He continued to feel at her stomach, then looked across at me. "Put your hand just here and feel for yourself."

I felt my shoulder convulse unwillingly, but I did as he told me. Warm blood pumped beneath exposed skin, but I wasn't sure what else I was supposed to be feeling.

"My cousins have a few contacts and recommended that she go to Harvey Farm. I'm keeping a close eye on her diet and exercise until they're able to retrieve her in about two months; they don't have the room at the moment," Roshea explained. "This is no place to bring up a foal."

I blinked slowly. It was no place for a boy as young as Roshea in the army either. As I cast a sneaky look at his belt, I noticed that no sword hung from his belt. Whilst it was a relief that he wasn't trained in combat, my inner trainer was disappointed. If there was a sudden invasion, he wouldn't be able to fend for himself. "When's the foal due?"

"It won't be until Spring comes again," Roshea said absentmindedly, as though he was already expecting the question. "It's a long way off, but when the time comes, the people at Harvey Farm have already said they're okay for me to visit from time to time. If you want, I don't mind taking you down as well?"

I couldn't understand why he would invite someone like me considering this was the first proper conversation we were having, but I found it hard to fight down a smile. Roshea had never let his kind expression drop in the slightest, and it had left me with little choice but to replicate it. It was impressive how much he could trust me. Did he come to that conclusion as an extension of his admiration for Sedgar and Coyote? Even though Spring was so many months away, was he convinced that we would be better acquainted by that point? "Only if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all." Roshea got to his feet and picked up the heavy bucket with both hands. A bit of water splashed onto my lap, but I didn't flinch. "Which horses do you like riding?"

He jerked his head, and I took it as a cue to follow. "I don't have any favourites; having preferences severely limits the ability to adapt."

Roshea made a noise of agreement. "At the same time, horses and soldiers alike need to have a mutual understanding. Whilst the relationship will do for standard exercise, horse and rider need to be compatible for absolute synchronicity. Even with the slightest motion, each party knows what the other is thinking. That's why Elle has Harlequin, Zed has Sienna. I don't think that it'll be long before you should start considering who you want as your partner."

He seemed content to spend his time in the stables, but not to ride the very horses that he had trained all that time ago. Didn't he want anything more than this? "Sienna…is she one of yours?"

Roshea shook his head. "A few of the horses here are the ones I trained, but Sienna's not one of them." He looked up slightly as he started to recall each of them by name and counting them off with a nod of his head. "Laguna, Ornello, Wonderwood, Roseblood...My granddad has a bit of an acquired taste when it comes to naming them. There was probably a time when I could have been able to tell you why he chose them, but I've long forgotten them now." He set the bucket down to allow him to wipe at his forehead with the back of his hand. I picked up the bucket before he had the chance to burden himself with it again. "Thank you. If it would be useful to you, would it help to have me determine which mount would be most compatible with you?"

I wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish, but it proved impossible to deny that look of innocence. I had grown so used to it I didn't want to see him disappointed. "If it's not too much trouble," I said again.


	15. Have Mercy

Zed gave me a number of tacks to repair whenever he noticed my hands were idle. He would often provide me the necessary equipment to fix them with, teaching me what the tension of the leather should be and what metals and sizes the buckles ought to be. A few months down the line, he gave me projects to do and silently told me to get on with it. Although he had mentioned that I should liaise with the armoury to obtain army expenses for the repairs, I saw the work as a hobby and didn't mind putting my wages towards the goods. My money for serving the army came from the army itself – in essence, they were still technically paying for the materials.

The wages I earned in the army were put into savings for the most part, primarily because I didn't know what else to do with it. There was a fairly healthy pile before I started the repair work for Zed, and I was pleased I had saved so much. I still ended up with sweet bread whenever I left the bakery, and I soon came up with the solution of reducing my visits there. The money was stowed away in my drawer in our dormitory, and it hadn't been long for it to exceed the volume of the pouch Sedgar had given me on our first visit to the town. The necklace, too, took permanent residence in the drawer. 

Vyland was a little more frivolous with his wages, and he managed to entice Sedgar to accompany him on his visits to the tavern. By extension I had to go at least once before I could say for sure (more for Sedgar's benefit) that it wasn't for me. I had more productive things to do – clean the stables or otherwise read in my corner until they returned. They always came back slightly merrier, but it was also on these nights that they were mercifully asleep before they hit their beds.

Vyland always invited me, and my refusal was often countered with him calling me boring. 

When I wanted to go into town to purchase a few materials for my latest project, I returned the favour in kind and asked if Vyland wanted to join. I half-expected him to refuse as I had done to get his own back, but to my surprise he didn't.

The blacksmith I frequented was a family business run by the Orwells. The first few times Sedgar was content to accompany me, but over time he grew more reserved. With Vyland coming along today, Sedgar didn't waste a moment to say he would wait for us outside as there wouldn't be room for all three of us. 

"I need four iron stirrups. Good quality, no less than 200G a piece."

Theo Orwell struck an orange strip of metal before turning his head very slightly. His exposed back was sweating from working directly in front of the furnace. He was the father of the family and also the one I had the most dealings with. "I can tell it's you – your pleasantries are second to none."

I furrowed my eyebrows. Theo had a tendency of mentioning my mannerisms before doing business. I didn't believe in the needless conversation Sedgar always encouraged. I was here to trade; I didn't need to know about every aspect of Theo's life. 

Theo made no comment to suggest he noticed Vyland's looming figure slightly behind me, but he was near impossible to miss. He tucked a wet strand of black hair behind an equally sweaty ear. "Very well – I'll see what I can part with for your stated price."

He shouted out for someone to resume his work, and one of his many sons hollered back a grouchy response of acknowledgement. Theo set the hammer down and gestured for me to follow.

I delved into my pocket for my next request. "If possible, I'd like you to create a few more of these as well."

Theo glanced at the metal ring before letting out an unrestrained laugh. "Sure. I can create 10 for 50G – sound good?"

"That's fine," I said as I passed the small hoop into his waiting hand. "I'll come back in a week to retrieve them and pay you then." 

Sedgar had taught me how to read, but arithmetic still wasn't a strong point for me. It had taken me a lot of trial and error and many visits to other blacksmiths, but I soon created a hierarchy of prices for my usual materials. The Orwells were the first blacksmiths who hadn't been exposed to my naivety, and the way I called the shots wasn't me being assertive, but rather a means for me to know exactly what I was doing. 

I waited at the usual counter as Theo busied himself with his wares. He sifted through boxes of metals noisily before lining up the samples along the counter that would go for my stated price. I fingered the four coins in my pouch, all apparently worth 200G each. Vendors were more than happy to give change, but I was still too slow to know whether their calculations were right. It was less hassle to give them the exact amount they desired.

Once I found a stirrup worthy of my four coins, Sedgar was only too pleased to see that we had concluded business so quickly. "Did you manage to get what you were looking for?"

I nodded, but Vyland had a lot more to say. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You practically rubbed that man's face in the dirt. I hadn't pinned you as the haggling type, but you know how to get what you want. I don't suppose you could pull the same trick at the tavern for me?"

I exhaled sharply, shrugging his hand off me. "Do it yourself."

Sedgar laughed at the sight of Vyland's look of mild horror. "Wolf has a point. Bartering takes a certain skill, which he's been kind enough to demonstrate to you. If your reputation is anything to go on though, I don't think The Black Stallion will lower their prices for you."

Much of the talk back to the castle was of Vyland's behaviour at The Black Stallion, which I learnt was the name of the tavern they frequented. Vyland himself was defensive, but Sedgar told me the embarrassing stories I was relieved to be of no part of. It was almost sad how Vyland's attempts to find love were so unfortunate, and though many took interest in his position in the army, relationships never lasted beyond the evening. Sedgar found no shame in explaining every fight he had broken up in detail. Even the gradual downpour apparently wasn't enough to put a damper on Sedgar's spirits. 

All the bad stories at Vyland's misfortune ceased instantly as we approached the castle gates. A brown horse cantered through the gates to meet us, hooves striking the stone with thunderous anger. Atop the horse was Coyote, who had apparently waited for us to return from the town and was reaching the end of his patience. His turban kept the rain out of his eyes, but his clothes seemed heavier from the extra weight. 

"Sedgar, Vyland, you're coming with me to the Pelhams. Be ready in five minutes; I won't wait any longer than that."

They were discreet, but I saw them each give me a fleeting look of concern. I could understand why Coyote didn't want me to accompany him to my previous masters, but the way he towered over us gave off a menacing aura. I would be a liability if I came with them, but it was my family he was talking about. I needed to know, but words failed me. 

Sedgar, ever the medium, knew exactly what was crossing my mind. He gave a firm nod. "Understood. Is there a reason for the urgency?"

Coyote did a poor job steadying his horse in an attempt to channel his restlessness. "We're purging Aurelis of the scum that is Damien Pelham. My judgment will be swift before he can make up any excuses. Mark my words, I'd rather beat him to a bloody pulp, but I need you both to stop me doing just that."

I didn't understand the full story, but I didn't need to. I took a step forwards, ignoring the way Sedgar tried to hold me back. I didn't need to know what Master Pelham had done to aggravate Coyote. I still owed my master a duty of care. I couldn't let any harm come his way, even if the offender was Coyote himself.

"Whatever Master Pelham did to insult you, let me take his place. As long as I live and breathe, I'm still his accessory." I lowered myself on one knee, ignoring the sudden whiff of rain as I did so. "Have mercy; let me take his punishment in his stead until you're satisfied. All I ask is that you spare Master Pelham."

Coyote glared down at me, and he was by far angrier than I had ever seen him. His eyes were wide with absolute fury, his shoulders squared and tense. He breathed harder, his nostrils positively expanding.

I had waited for that look for so long. All those months he had treated me kindly, he was now finally wearing a look I was more accustomed to. 

I wanted him to hurt me so badly, if only to break his elongated look of ire. My body would surely have softened over the months and forgotten the pain – could I mentally endure what was to come? No…there was no question about it. I'd keep consciousness for as long as necessary; only then would his anger gradually ease into dominance and glee. How long would it be before my cries merged with his laughter? 

His fists gripped the reins tighter, and I was ready. Would he dismount or would his horse trample my pathetic frame?

"Five minutes!" Coyote barked before riding past the three of us. 

I waited until Coyote was out of earshot before I let out a long but controlled exhale. I bit hard onto my lower lip in a less successful attempt to control the steady flow of tears that had started to make themselves known amongst the raindrops on my cheeks. My fingernails dug into my palms, and I was hurting so much I could barely feel Sedgar's hand on my shoulder and comprehend the heavy footfalls on the forming puddles as Vyland's hasty exit. 

Sedgar couldn't find any words to say, but he steadied my shoulder to subdue me. I choked back each painful breath, still waiting for the first blow, only for Sedgar to pull me back into harsh reality. He stayed with me for longer than the five minutes that Coyote had allowed for, and as he continued to rub me to say he was there, I was conscious that every moment he spent shivering in the cold with me fuelled Coyote's wrath even more. 

He couldn't be late on my account. I gathered what little dignity remained to appear strong. I kept my eyes forward, focused on the castle gates. "Tell me everything. Promise me."

I saw Sedgar nod at the corner of my eye. I couldn't bring myself to look at him as he leaned forwards to straighten up, and buried my head in my knee as I listened to Sedgar vanish in the rain.


	16. Curiosity Killed the Wolf

I hadn't been expecting very much when Vyland and Sedgar returned from the Pelham Estate. Sedgar kept his mouth firmly shut and Vyland was reluctant as well. The more I asked, the more defensive they got. Soon the only thing that Vyland could reveal was that Master Pelham was banished to the ice mountains on the northern outskirts of Aurelis.

There was no reason that accompanied it, but I continued life in the army under the pretence that Sedgar would tell me everything when he was ready. He had promised me after all; I didn't know how long he needed, but I knew he wouldn't back down on a promise.

As the weeks went by, I felt my resolve gradually ebb. Sedgar was quick to make excuses, claiming he had other things to do or otherwise disappearing altogether and getting Vyland to apologise on his behalf. I continued to read alone, venture into town and learn as much as I could allow my distracted mind to take in. I enjoyed the likes of company, whether that be through Elle's rigorous training or Fraser's riding lessons, but it was never quite the same as being with Sedgar. Sometimes I'd go and look for him, only to find him deep in conversation with other colleagues, both those I knew and those I couldn't name. 

Vyland was often caught in the middle, straddling between me and Sedgar to keep both parties happy. In the time he spent with me, he was unusually subdued and taciturn. He still talked in his sleep when the three of us turned in for the night (where the atmosphere was awkward enough by that point), but for the most part he tried to engage me into conversation by asking questions rather than talking about himself. It was strange, for Vyland standards.

Every single day though, the pair of them were late in the mornings. I didn't have a very good concept of time when it came to my morning training, but I noticed their reluctance instantly. I chose not to mention it, and there was never a word of acknowledgement or apology for their tardiness. 

It was a good few weeks before I stopped my training at a reasonable point to return to the room to retrieve them. They had no discipline between them, and I couldn't stand the complacency any longer. 

I wasn't confident in exerting my authority, however I had every intention of barging in to rouse them. If push came to shove, I could be assertive. Coyote had no need for soldiers who fell behind. I needed them to keep up with me to improve their chance of survival.

"Coyote did the best he could in the circumstances." Vyland's voice was distinct even before I reached the door, and I bit my lower lip as I deliberated my next move. It was clear that they were both already awake. "When he debriefed us, we knew what we were getting into, and to be honest I would have supported Coyote if he did get physical. You can't hide it from him forever."

I narrowed my eyes. Apparently this was not the first time I was the topic of conversation, and their visit to the Pelham Estate had been on their minds as much as it had mine. Had this been the case every morning? 

Sedgar's voice was harder to make out. "I know I can't. I want to protect him, even a little bit longer. I promised I would tell him...and yet I don't know if I can. It's too horrible to even think about. He's an important friend to me, one that I'd stand by no matter what. He's come such a long way and he'll definitely do great things in the future. And then I see that...that monster looking back at me."

It was silent for a long while afterwards. For a brief moment I could almost mistake myself in thinking they weren't there anymore, but that only made Sedgar's next comments all that more defined and harder to miss. His voice was probably at the same volume, but it felt like he was right there with me.

"It was his own son, Vyland. His own flesh and blood. He violated Wolf right from the very start. He abused Wolf with the very hands that were meant to keep him safe. It's absolutely disgusting! By Naga, how do I even _begin_ to tell him any of this?" 

Suddenly it became slightly harder to breathe. I kept my eyes fixated on the handle as I pieced together what Sedgar had said, slowly and meticulously. Master Pelham and my father were one and the same. That was what they had all been so afraid to tell me, but I didn't feel anything. What difference did it make now?

"None of this is Wolf's fault; it's that sick family for letting it happen! I keep telling myself he has the right to know, and sometimes I nearly do. And then I ask myself: does he really need to know? Isn't it kinder to keep him in the dark? And so I run, but without fail he catches up." There was another pause. I imagined Sedgar's head was in his hands, the way he normally did when he was mentally drained. "I can't go on like this Vyland, and neither can he. What am I supposed to do?"

I fingered the handle tentatively. I shouldn't be hearing any of this, yet I was rooted to the spot. I could walk away at any point, forget I had heard anything. They didn't need to know that I was even here, and I could resume the way I had always done. 

I've never had to hide a secret before; there was no telling how good I was at it. How long would it be until I had to tell Sedgar I already knew everything that he had to tell me? 

The low rumblings of Vyland continued behind the door, but I could only make out a few words. It was surprising how attentive I became as soon as he mentioned my name and saying I'd find out one way or another. Save for that, nothing else was distinguishable through the wooden barrier.

I sighed and let myself into the room unannounced. 

The chatter ceased immediately. The pair of them were dressed and presentable, Vyland stood by the chest of drawers across the room and Sedgar perched on his bed. Sedgar's head snapped up from his hands, a look of pure horror in his glossy eyes and open mouth before he rearranged it into an expression of regret. He looked across at Vyland, both silently asking the other how much of their conversation I had heard. 

I closed the door quietly behind me. "I heard enough." Vyland gave an awkward gesture to his bed, but I took to my corner of the room. My blanket was folded and set to one side, and I made sure not to tread on it as I made to lean against the wall.

Sedgar and Vyland were both still silent. Sedgar avoided eye contact at all costs, taking more interest in his knees whilst Vyland awkwardly looked between us. He did his best to be subtle in nudging Sedgar with a foot, but the latter did a good job ignoring the persistent antics.

I folded my arms. "How did Coyote find out?"

Vyland tried to entice Sedgar one last time before coming to the conclusion the latter wouldn't reply. "He had recently liberated the slaves from a noble. I forget the name. It turned out that they were a close friend of Dami...the Pelhams. Coyote made an offer to reduce their punishment in exchange for any information they had about you."

"Did they know...about my mother?"

Vyland gave a pained expression, and I knew the answer wasn't going to be a good one. "She was a slave too, like us. She died not long after you were born."

I nodded slowly. It was all clear to me now. It didn't matter whether the circumstances of me were intentional or accidental. It had been ingrained in me for a long time I had no life before the Pelhams, and this extra knowledge only proved my point. Knowing Master Pelham, he probably saw that my mother had outlived her usefulness. She wouldn't have died naturally, not in that household.

"Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?" 

Vyland was about ready to crack, and I had never seen him look so vulnerable. Being the emotional man he was, I was certain that he needed more reassurance than I did. "It's not as bad as I thought, to be honest," I said nonchalantly. "I never had a desire to know about my family, yet despite that, Coyote did everything he could. His efforts paid off and matters have come to a suitable conclusion. There's nothing more to be said." 

I couldn't remember if I had ever told Coyote to stop looking, but if he didn't know, Sedgar knew I was never interested. In a way, it was Coyote's determination to press on that this had happened in the first place. 

When Sedgar first saw my brand, he had mentioned that it was nothing like he had seen before, and he had wondered aloud whether it was the work of an exclusive trader. Perhaps he had relayed his concerns to Coyote, and that had fuelled his drive to find out where I came from. Now that they had known that I was brought into this world purely because of Master Pelham and his personal gain, they could rest assured that the chances of someone else with the same history as me was very slim. 

"He wanted to give you somewhere to return to." It took me a while to register that quiet voice as Sedgar's. He looked up, and I accidentally caught his serious gaze. "He wanted to reunite you with blood relatives who would embrace you with open arms. When he learnt the truth, anger overcame him before he could fully grasp the situation." He was the first to look away. Maybe he was still seeing Master Pelham in me. "Coyote cried for you, Wolf. He can't relate to us through experience, but he cares so much about you. We all do. You don't have to act strong in front of us; we're here to support you."

I had taken in every word, but I made no acknowledgement that I did. Sedgar had knowingly withheld this information because he too allegedly cared about me. He had been under the impression this bit of extra information would seriously affect me, and his constant worrying manifested into multiple realities of destruction. It only went to show how little confidence he had in me. 

He left his parents because he couldn't deal with their tentative attitude, but he was exactly the same. I could relate to that now. I had a heavy feeling in my stomach, nothing like I had ever felt before, yet I couldn't pin a particular emotion to it. I wasn't angry or even disappointed; I just didn't want to see him anymore. 

I made a point of looking over Sedgar's head at Vyland. "I'll be going to the armoury to see if they can assign a bow to me. I'll train with you whenever you want."


	17. An Altean Expedition

Ever since I had found out about my heritage, my day to day life had not changed for better or worse. I could not deny that I initially considered the what ifs and the whys, but I never said them out loud. Perhaps I had known somewhere along the way that Master Pelham and I were connected much deeper than the conventional slave-master relationship, and I had been too oblivious to realise it in my consciousness. Even if that was the case, what difference did it make now?

As retribution, I avoided Sedgar at nearly every opportunity. Where he had been cautious and excused himself to spare himself looking at me in the eye, I was brash and left without a word of where I was going. Every day Sedgar would wait patiently for the day I needed him. He wanted the knowledge to ruin me, destroy me in some way, if only to prove him right and make his warped foresight a reality. He had yet to realise that despite his being right many times before, he was wrong in this instance. I was perfectly fine and Sedgar refused to accept that.

I was therefore more than happy to take up Coyote's offer of one of his 'boring errands'. The idea of leaving the Aurelian lands terrified me, but given the current circumstances and Coyote's reassuring words of encouragement, fear was set to one side. The excursion was a welcome distraction, if only to take a break from Sedgar.

Coyote went on these errands solely for the journey, and I could fully appreciate that. The fields seemed wider during the day, and even after riding for an hour, it was like we had made no progress at all. Wispy puffs of white stretched above us, a preview of Aurelis' future skies as it continued to race East. The grassland thinned into sparse desert as we made steady progress through the outskirts of Khadein to reach our destination, Altea. Coyote explained that it was a coming of age ball for Princess Elice, one that marked the milestone for inheriting the throne. There was a ceremony beforehand that was exclusive to Altean nobility, but the party afterwards was unmissable. 

Even though I couldn't see eye to eye with Sedgar, it proved impossible to bear the same ill feelings towards Coyote. Although he too had broken my trust, being out in the open prairie with him made me realise I couldn't hate him. He didn't judge me the way Sedgar or Vyland did; he carried on, and that was precisely what I wanted as well.

Coyote was fully aware of my breakdown in confidence in Sedgar. He had explained that Sedgar had an innate sense of moral and almost maternal instinct to protect, and it was a downfall that Sedgar himself couldn't see the thin line between caring and being insufferably overbearing. It was a line that he had crossed, and Coyote asked me to forgive his subordinate for failing to see that.

I couldn't answer, and nothing else was said on the matter.

We arrived in Altea early with two days to spare, which Coyote wasted no time in paying his respects to the King. Fraser was apparently no stranger to Altea, for he was quick to show me all the best places to see, including the monument of Anri that overlooked the lands. I was vaguely familiar of the story through my reading of historical literature in the library, but Fraser still recounted the entire legend of Anri and the Dark Dragon Medeus. It was a dark period that had enveloped the entire continent nearly a century ago, and the Alteans were proud to be the homeland of the nation's hero. The town itself was almost quaint, with tiny shops that looked like they would topple over the minute any negligent customer turned too quickly. It was pleasant, but it was no Aurelis.

Where it had been the case in Aurelis that soldiers ate their meals in the barracks, it seemed Altean custom for all members to eat together. Fraser and I sat near the end of one of two long tables that took up the entirety of a large hall, elbow to elbow with men of the Altean Army. Coyote sat at the head of the room at the third table that overlooked the soldiers. Even though he was at the opposite side of the room, I could sense his boredom as he nodded and gave inaudible answers to his neighbours of various aristocratic backgrounds. 

I learnt that Fraser had a healthy appetite, and he was more than happy to relieve me of my meal when I had enough. Most of the soldiers around us were content to talk about themselves and life in Altea the kingdom of swordsmanship, but there was the occasional question that cropped up about Aurelis and its equally esteemed cavalry. 

The King of Altea eventually got onto his feet, filling the room with silence. He was a large man, more so from the armour that made his shoulders impossibly bulky. His blue-turning-slate beard disguised what expression he had, and if he had anything to say, that too was probably limited. Men of all statures got onto their feet as the upper class filed down the hall to leave.

Coyote caught my eye as he went past. "Wolf, with me." 

Fraser gave me a forceful push, and I slinked into the crowd of nobility. A green haired man looked across at me none too discreetly, but he didn't say anything.

Coyote continued to talk to the King of Altea, walking in step with him although I could tell by his tense shoulders he was not used to walking in such a carefree fashion. Coyote liked an agenda and a sense of purpose; he had said before that his brother was much more talented in diplomatic affairs.

We parted ways with the Altean royalty, then one by one the nobles bade their farewells until we were the ones to break off. Coyote bade good night, and the waiting doorman showed us into what I assumed was an assigned guest room.

Coyote waited until the doorman closed the door behind us before throwing his head back in exasperation. "By Naga, I thought we were never going to make it through!" He cast a warm smile my direction before marching across the room with energy he couldn't flounce before. 

The guest room may have been an understatement. It was as if we had walked into a separate place entirely, and there were a number of doors and open archways leading to the other rooms. The reception room itself was decorated in deep hues of green and brown, with various recreational items set around the perimeter such as a chess table and a writing desk. The luggage that Coyote had taken with him in the form of two trunks were against one wall. 

Coyote took the first door into the master bedroom. There was a small creak of wood and I could see Coyote's shadow moving and hear strange shuffling sounds in his search for something. "Retainers are to sleep with their lieges. Vyland told me you prefer to sleep on the floor, and I have no intention of disrespecting that. I hope you don't consider the custom impertinent."

I craned my neck slightly to see what he was doing, but I remained rooted to the spot. "Sedgar would normally be your retainer, wouldn't he? Why did you bring me?" 

I remembered Sedgar with a pang. I had only been away from him for a few days, but it felt like an eternity. We hadn't really say a proper goodbye as I told him not to bother. It was a parting that I now regretted, and I had to wonder whether Sedgar was thinking of me now. I missed the way he made sense of everything, back when nothing about Master Pelham happened. What would it take to go back to that, when things were so much simpler? 

Coyote re-emerged with his face positively buried in the mass of colourful fabric. I dashed to relieve him of the blankets, but he turned his shoulders in reluctance. He strode into the room next door and set them down on the floor before replying. "You're meant for great things. You've made solid progress, but sometimes it's good to take you out of your comfort zone. Being a soldier isn't just about how to hold a sword; it's about being able to adapt to your surroundings." He ran his fingers across the array of colours before deciding to use the thick brown one as the base. "The only rule is that you don't leave without me. If it becomes too stressful, let me know and we'll leave together."

I shrugged. It was a ball; it wasn't like it was anything new to me. Coyote brought me along for whatever experience he wanted to put me through. I couldn't be a liability to him; I had to endure and leave on his terms. I had plenty of talent in blending in and fading into nonexistence, and a skill I silently thanked the Pelhams for. It would surely make me a better subordinate to Coyote.

"I'd tell you that it's an enjoyable night, but it feels a bit hypocritical coming from me. Altea and Aurelis are close to the capital, so our alliance is fairly strong anyway. Not every kingdom feels the same, but Altea sent the invite out to the other nations regardless. If I can strengthen Aurelis' relationship with any other kingdom whilst I'm here, it's a bonus." He laughed softly. "But politics is my affair; your mission is to have fun for me."

I remained expressionless. It was an odd request. Surely his idea of fun was different to mine? 

Coyote straightened up and rubbed his hands, evidently pleased with his handiwork. "The key is to relax, and everything else will follow. You don't need to be afraid."

"I'm not," I said tersely. This was my next mission, one I would face head-on to be useful to him.

Coyote laughed heartily. He returned to the reception room, making quick work of his cape before tossing it onto the back of a chair. He threw himself onto it contently, both legs over the armrest in a very unorthodox way for a prince, and started to take off a boot. "Excellent. Perhaps I'm getting worked up over nothing." He offered the settee opposite him before continuing. "So then, tell me about your day. What do you make of Altea? Did you see the monument?"


	18. Into the Deep End

As I looked across the great hall now filled with masses of people, my head felt like it was somewhere else, and something else was making me follow Coyote. I only heard a few words of his advice, but his words were muted by the sheer shock that numbed all my senses. The music rang within my head rather than my ears.

It had been so long since I served the Pelham's functions, but even their social gatherings paled in comparison to this. 

The announcer stood at the entrance, who up until now had reeled off variants of His Royal Highness or Lord and Lady, turned to us. Coyote barely acknowledged him as he went past, but he turned his head slightly and his mouth opened inaudibly over the noise. The stranger pulled a look of bewilderment, but he proceeded to strike his staff on the marble twice as he had done with the other members of royalty. "Coyote of the Aurelian Plains."

I kept my eyes down as I walked in Coyote's shadow. I could feel everyone watching him as he entered, the audacious outcast who thought himself better than these upperclass men and women. 

Despite him not taking up his title, one man knew instantly who he was. 

"Prince Hardin, I would have thought you'd be sooner." The man was dressed entirely in black, with golden trims and intricate patterns on his robes. It was unlike anything I had seen. His vibrant hair was an impossible shade of scarlet that surpassed even Vyland's, slick and smooth behind his shoulders.

Coyote nodded curtly. "I arrived a few days ago. No doubt you travelled this morning, Prince Michalis."

He gave a callous laugh. "Indeed; my dragon can take me places in half the time your cavalry do. Regrettably, my father was unable to attend due to prior commitments."

"That's unfortunate. Do pass him my best regards."

Michalis' upper lip curled nastily, as though the comment had insulted him in some way. Although Coyote disliked the world of nobility, Michalis made it very clear he too didn't take to forced pleasantries. "Of course." His mouth had barely moved. "And your brother? Still as incapacitated as ever?"

I found it hard to keep looking at Michalis. There was something about his arrogance that made my insides squirm. I expect it was only through years of experience that Coyote could talk to him so calmly. 

As I looked at anywhere but Michalis, I came to notice the girl who clung to prince's robe was doing more or less the same thing. She was too young to be a retainer as well, but rather than being engaged with the conversation at hand, she was too distracted by the activity around her. She continued to sway on the spot and grip Michalis' coat to support herself.

Our eyes met before long. She gave a mischievous smile before swinging around and breaking away from Michalis. Her hair too was a deep shade of red that was tied back extravagantly with strings of white beads and hints of emerald. She beckoned for me to bend down to her level. "Are you a good dancer?"

My eyes darted at Coyote for help, but he seemed too engrossed in conversation to notice. I felt my stomach sink; what was the right answer? Her eyes were like Roshea's, wide and full of life. "I can't dance," I replied honestly. I knew how it was done, but I had never dared to try out for myself. 

She giggled, and without warning she grabbed my unprepared hand. "No one can't dance. I'll show you!"

For a little girl who only just reached my waist, she had surprisingly incredible strength. I cast a backwards glance, in the hopes that Coyote would save me. Instead Coyote waved me off and resumed his conversation as if nothing had happened. 

Dancing was perhaps an understatement of what I did. The girl used me as a replacement for Michalis, spinning around me and taking hold of my hands to make everything blur into streaks of colour except her. She laughed as I clumsily bumped into other dancers, purposefully doing the same. Her dress continuously billowed and caught my legs. It was closer to an unorthodox shamble than ballroom dancing. She begged for me to lift her over and over again. I had lifted weights and heavy lances, but although the girl was light, I only fulfilled her wishes half-heartedly in the fear of causing her harm. 

I only learnt of Princess Maria's name through my next partner, who apparently sympathised me for her rough treatment. My footwork hardly improved and my head was splitting open from the noise and close quarters. My ears felt like they were burning and my hands too felt damp with sweat under my thick gloves. One song finished and the next started without me noticing. I tried to leave several times, but one way or another I still ended up dancing. My feet were tired and my arms were heavy, but I had been through worse.

"Don't look down, look at me," my latest partner advised. "I'm quite comfortable assuming the male role, so just follow my lead." She was much more mature than Princess Maria. I wasn't comfortable holding her slim waist and I flushed and apologised every time her body came too close, but she was oblivious to my embarrassment. "I'm Sheema, Princess of Gra."

I opened my mouth to continue, but nothing else came out. I too should follow through with the introduction and state my business as Coyote's retainer. That was common courtesy.

But it was also in that precise moment Master Pelham made himself known in my mind. I could feel him boring into the back of my mind, a sour look that melted even the terrible high-pitched music. What was I doing? I shouldn't be here; I was meant to be tucked away, invisible. The hands that were designed for cleaning, cooking, laundry, fulfilling Master Pelham's every need, now dared to touch a woman of such high social standing. 

I broke away, and Princess Sheema didn't resist. "I'm sorry, I can't..." 

I kept my head down as I worked through the crowd, apologising with every breath I could spare. I had no idea where I was going. Coyote had told me not to leave without him. I couldn't bring myself to interrupt him, especially this early in the evening. 

I made slow but steady progress to the room's outskirts. My throat was dry; any water my body held had all gathered in my sweaty palms and eyes. In a moment of madness I downed something that made me feel even worse. I spluttered as I brought a hand to my collar, tugging it down to give my throat more room to breathe. 

I had never been so happy to see the floor tiles end. My forehead made contact with the cold wall, and the very action of leaning forwards helped to settle my nerves. I kept my eyes firmly shut, willing myself not to bring up anything untoward. My breaths were shallow, but I could hear myself inhaling deeper each time. 

"Are you all right?" I was quick to shake my head. "I'll take you outside for some fresh air. Sir, do you mind getting some water please?"

I didn't dare open my eyes when the owner of the voice brought an arm over my shoulders. I let him steer me through the radiating bodies of heat and noise, leaning on him slightly as I forced myself to walk. 

The fresh air hit me at once. It was easier to breathe out here, and the music progressively died down. The sound of our footsteps were loud on the stone, and the man continued to guide me down the steps further away from the party. Eventually he coerced me to lower myself. I wasn't on the stone bench long before I had to lean forwards.

The man continued to rub between my shoulder blades. Did he know he was nursing the brand that lie below the layers of soft clothing? He could feel what I was underneath, couldn't he? I gripped the stone seat with both hands. I couldn't shake him off; I wasn't supposed to fight back. 

"I'm taking it you've never come to these sorts of events before. Prince Hardin threw you into the deep end, didn't he?"

I turned my head slightly, more to keep my mind off the twisting sensation in my stomach. Was he waiting for me to answer back, so he could use that as an excuse to punish me?

He continued to rub up and down my back. "If it's any consolation, my first time at a ball wasn't exactly professional either. My comrades also get a bit merry and tend to forget they're on the job, so I'm very quick to know when a fellow soldier needs a bit of time out. Ah thank you - here, you'll need this."

I felt something touch my hand, and the shock was enough to get me to finally open my eyes. I caught a glimpse of man's hand as he passed the glass to me. I gave a quick glance to take in the man's lower body. He too was dressed formally, with boots that came to his knees. His shoes and trim on the hem of his tunic were not designs I recognised. "You're not from Aurelis."

"No, I'm from Grust. I'm Camus, King Ludwik's retainer."

I shied away from him at long last, and Camus' hand left my back. I tugged at my collar again - unlike Sedgar, I wasn't used to wearing high necks. He was a retainer like me, but we were still on a completely different level. There was still time for him to take advantage of me if he wanted to. "Wolf," I stated to Camus' thigh. I was afraid to look up. "Um, what about King Ludwik?"

"He was with Queen Liza when I left. He won't miss me." 

I sipped at my water, more as a distraction than to make myself feel better. 

"Sometimes talking helps to put your mind off things," Camus mused. "Tell me about yourself; how long have you been working for Prince Hardin?"

I didn't answer immediately. I hadn't been counting the days, but I knew it wasn't any great length of service. "Long enough," I replied vaguely. "This is my first time outside Aurelis though."

Camus made a sound of mild interest. "I've made a few trips to Aurelis myself - I'm quite envious of your open fields and clear skies. Grust's an island to the West, so we get a lot of rain. I hope one of your excursions take you to Grust one day. It must have been a bit of a shock, travelling this distance as well."

I shook my head slowly. "Coyote and I enjoy the journey. We're used to riding."

I finally stole a look at the man who had taken it upon himself to care for me. He was younger than his voice sounded, with coiffed blonde hair that sat neatly on his head. His cheekbones were taut and he had an almost sallow complexion, like parchment. Despite his handsome looks, his eyes looked tired. 

"How did you come here?" I said to my knees. Grust was an island, like Camus said. An island was land that was surrounded by water; although Grust was famous for its exceptional cavalry like Aurelis, he wouldn't have come by horse like we did.

"Boat," he said simply. "It's the only way we can go anywhere, unfortunately. Altea's one of the closer places we can get to." He leaned forwards slightly into my field of vision. "So then, are you feeling any better?"

I nodded. "Thank you. I prefer it out here than in there."

"I don't blame you, so do I," Camus was quick to agree. He got onto his feet and adjusted his already-perfect cravat. He waited for me to look at him before saying anything else. "Take the time you need and you'll be fine. If you'll excuse me, I'll need to make sure King Ludwik behaves himself."


	19. Heed My Call

_"What's he thinking, rubbing elbows with the Newburys!"_

_Master Pelham threw his mantle on the floor in blind rage. I kept my head down as I continued to work on dusting the already-immaculate fireplace. He had turned in for the night quicker than I had expected. I was invisible when he wanted me to be, and I was there if he needed me._

_"Rat, come here."_

_I didn't say anything to indicate I heard; I set my cloth down and my legs took me to him._

_Master Pelham slumped into a waiting chair, crossing one leg over the other and his arm naturally supported his head; he wanted me to listen. I got onto the floor and tentatively started to take off his shoes. No sooner had I done so, I found myself on the floor slightly short of breath. I hadn't seen him kick me, but I was all too familiar of the dull ache around my stomach._

_I stayed where I was, leaving my limbs artistically sprawled across the floor. Master Pelham didn't do anything at first, then he started to laugh dryly. I heard him get onto his feet, moving noisily towards me._

_I bit down as the heel of his boot dug into my hand. He continued to apply pressure. My face contorted as I endured, but I remained silent._

_"They're only after our money. They're a greedy family, and they'll kill us in our sleep the moment we let our guard down." He finally released my hand, and I brought it to my chest when it was safe for me to move. His heel made contact with my shoulder next, and I let him roll me onto my back._

_His face was hidden in the shadows of long auburn bangs, but his teeth still prodded into a well-rehearsed sneer._

_My right side was the next to fall victim to his assault. He purposefully chose the side that hadn't fully healed, and it aggravated the bruises that were only just starting to heal beneath my tunic. I didn't hear the frustration he vented about the Newburys; I felt it, and that was all he needed me for. I turned my cheek slightly, inviting his shoe to make one final blow to my chin._

_He turned on his heel and left me where I was. There was a suspicious sound of him resuming his place on the settee._

_"Rat, come here," he said again, and again I came to relieve him of his footwear. He drew back his foot as I approached, and I was fully prepared to be knocked to the floor a second time. Instead he leaned forwards to grip me by the back of the head. I let out an unrestrained cry as he forced me up by the roots of my hair. I was dragged clumsily onto the chair, and it was only when I was fully on his lap that he stopped. I looked across at him, and all signs of his anger dissipated instantly. His twisted smile barely reached his deep purple eyes. "I meant here."_

_I didn't flinch as he stroked my tangled hair, the same hand that had caused me pain mere seconds ago. His other hand found its way underneath my tunic as he slide my lower body closer to his torso. I shivered slightly as I let him slip the oversized collar over one shoulder. My muscles tensed involuntarily as his fingers ran over my bruised skin. I heard him smile. His arm easily cradled my back, and his nails dug into my upper arm as he leaned forwards to kiss my neck._

_No matter what frustrated him, he knew what he needed and I was always available to make him forget._

_"Don't look so worried; I won't let them have you." I let out a controlled breath as he tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. His fingers flittered purposefully across my cheek, my neck, my chin, my dry lips. "It'd take more than that to separate us. Wouldn't you agree?"_

_I managed a hesitant nod. That was a question he wanted me to answer._

* * *

I sat up from my corner, only to hug my knees and lean my head into them. Both Vyland and Sedgar at the other end of our room were surprisingly quiet, but I breathed into my knees so I didn't wake them.

It was the first time I had remembered Master Pelham so vividly. I had forgotten the way he had looked at me, the sound of his voice. I had known everything about him, and since I started serving Coyote, my years of training had unravelled quicker than I had realised. It was ingrained in me that only he could touch me the way he did. Time alone had made me forget what it was like to feel but not at the same time. I was much older than I was in my dream, but all it took was for me to close my eyes to feel his grip on my upper arm.

He was right; we were bound for life. Our connection ran deeper than master and slave, father and son, and even if the world turned against us, we wouldn't be torn asunder. He needed me as much as I needed him, and now he was out in the wilderness alone because of me.

What had I done?

My thoughts were still on Master Pelham as I got dressed, fixing my armour out of habit and securing my sword round my waist.

I had turned a blind eye because it was Coyote's decision to banish Master Pelham. It was a judgment he had seen fit, one that I had no part to say was right or wrong. I carried on the way I did because Sedgar was concerned of my welfare, to the point I focused solely on getting by each day.

I never once stopped to think about Master Pelham. He had been discarded by Aurelis, never set foot on her soil again. In a matter of time, he had fallen from grace more rapidly than he could ever imagine. He was out there by himself, with no one to wait on him or even a place to call his own.

I should be there with him. I belonged out there with him.

The corridors weren't lit and the crescent moon shed minimal light, but the way to the stables came as second nature. It was very early in the morning, much earlier than when I usually went for my training. The horses too were sleepy, but some snorted awake as soon as they heard my footsteps upon the soft earth.

Ornello backed away as I made to stroke his nose. He was a stubborn stallion, and one which I recalled was one that Roshea had domesticated however many years ago. We had our differences, and although Roshea had admitted we had no compatibility whatsoever, I felt Ornello was the one for me because very few made the effort to exercise him. In a way, we were both outcasts, too different from the rest of our kind.

I patted the horse a few times before retrieving a comb that belonged to him. He tossed his head contently as I ran the brush through his coat.

I was grateful to Coyote for making me stronger than I ever was. With strength came responsibility, and I was strong enough to return to my former life and find my way back to my original master. My days with Coyote were over; it had been worthwhile, but it was merely a detour.

I saw her at the corner of my eye as I grabbed the teal padding next. "Don't try and stop me."

"Oh I'm not going to stop you," Elle said smugly. She leaned against the stall door opposite Ornello's, careful not to wake up the horse that resided there. Her expression was always hardened, with eyebrows knitted together that always made her look angry even when she wasn't. It was a far cry from her comrade Zed's neutral one. "It's my job to look out for suspicious activity and report it; your reasons mean nothing to me."

I nodded. If it was Sedgar standing there, he would surely do everything within his power to stop me. I rounded Ornello to make sure the padding was secure before retrieving the saddle.

"You do know that you're stealing from Coyote though, right? You might be considered a traitor; I might even go so far to say that you're a spy. Of course, that's assuming the fact that you were clever enough to string us along all this time. If we're instructed to go after you, it'd be to kill you." She shrugged. "I'm sure you know that already."

I positioned the saddle and made a start to buckle the keepers. I didn't know what I was going to do once I found Master Pelham; would I spend the rest of my life with him, or did I just want to ascertain the fact he was alive? It was my fault he was out there all alone. If anyone was going to pursue me believing I was a traitor, at least I'd die doing the right thing.

Elle made a sound of realisation. "You're running away, aren't you?" I saw her push herself off the stable door and make her way to me at the corner of my eye. I kept my hands busy. "That's your choice, but once you're out there, you're on your own. You don't know the first thing about survival. There are real wolves out there who would happily devour you. Even you're not that stupid, are you?"

I accidentally caught her eye as I went to retrieve the bridle next. I knew more about survival than she could possibly comprehend.

"I'd hate to see how Coyote and Sedgar react to this," she mused offhandedly. "Naturally, Zed too. They put a lot of effort in you. I guess that's what they get for putting all their eggs in one basket. That reminds me, you're also probably going to need food provisions. Are you going to raid the pantry as well, or have you done that already?"

My first attempt to put the bridle on Ornello was unsuccessful, but eventually he conceded. I rolled my eyes. I had saved up more than enough money to get by; I didn't need a lot of subsidence to keep me going. If I could find my way back to my master's side, that would be more than enough. I'll find my way to him no matter what.

Elle made no effort to keep her thoughts to herself. "Ha, well whatever. It's been nice knowing you. What a waste of potential."

I was about done, save for putting the reins over Ornello's head. I grabbed hold of the horse's mane to prepare myself to mount, but I didn't mount him immediately. I looked over my shoulder at Elle's disgruntled face.

Despite her harsh words, she was discouraging me from going. Everyone was trying to teach me the right thing to do, and for a long time I thought I was too. It had all been an illusion, being amongst comrades who didn't die and a master who fed me unconditionally. It had never made sense to me, and it was finally time for me to go back to reality.

She arched an eyebrow expectantly.

I sighed and swung myself onto the horse's back. It was already too late to have doubts now. "Please tell Coyote I can't thank him enough for everything he's done for me."

Elle folded her arms, but she stepped to one side to let me pass. "If you meant that, you wouldn't be running away. Coward."

I was barely past her before I dug my heels into Ornello's sides to make him break into a brisk trot. His hooves hit the ground rhythmically and I soon found myself pressing my body against his mane to steady myself.


	20. Tainted by Blood

The pastures of green and yellow faded into snow in a matter of hours. I had grossly misjudged the northern borders, both for its unforgiving winds and lack of life. There was no icy path to follow or any sign of civilisation as I approached the vast landscape that was home to the ice shrine. I didn't know what the ice shrine was in worship of, and it was any wonder if anyone would voluntarily brave the elements to reach it. 

If I had known what ordeals I would have to face beforehand, I would have brought extra layers. No matter how much I rubbed my hands or blew frozen air onto my fingers, the greedy wind made sure to steal whatever warmth I could generate. Instinct told me to retrace my steps back to Orleans many times, but I pressed forwards. 

I hadn't considered what the journey would do to Ornello, and the horse had suffered much worse than I had as we continued north. It would probably have been easier to leave him behind, but I kept him around more for the company and as a duty of care. The lingering sentient of Elle's piercing voice constantly reminded me that I had stolen from Coyote, and I looked out for the horse out of guilt.

Money was no use out here when there was no one to barter with. Wealth meant nothing, and the more I came to realise that, the more I worried about Master Pelham and the more determined I was to find him.

I knew all about energy conservation. I walked with Ornello, guiding him by the reins so the horse didn't expend unnecessary energy bearing my weight. I never once called out to Master Pelham as the words would only get lost in the fierce wind. I searched all angles for any signs of life. To start off with, I inwardly grew hopeful at every movement, only to be greeted with mild disappointment as it manifested into snow falling from dead branches or small rabbits. I soon learnt not to expect anything to avoid discouragement, but I was always on guard for the wolves that Elle warned me of. Perhaps it was because of Ornello's presence, but somehow whatever predators the woods held mercifully kept their distance.

It was nearly a week before I noticed the group of men in the thickets. It wasn't long before they too noticed me, and I was sceptical as they deviated from their path to approach me. For the most part their flesh was covered in a variety of furs and thick clothing, and were clearly more well-dressed against the elements than I was. 

They circled me, and as I examined each of their faces, I didn't recognise Master Pelham's amongst them. Many were unkempt, with facial hair that fell over their beady eyes and covered their mouths. 

"What brings you out here all alone?" one of them asked in a gruff voice. I noticed how one of them to my right fingered the club in his hand. I looked at each of them in turn, mentally registering what weapon each of them were armed with. Two had swords and one had a particularly cumbersome axe.

I had considered asking about Master Pelham, but Ornello's impatient shifting told me otherwise. He too had reasonably sensed that we were in danger. 

I chose not to say anything as I watched them hesitantly try and bring the circle as tight as they dared. Did they recognise my army-issue uniform? Could they tell I had come from Aurelis? 

The same man who spoke stepped away from the ring of seven. He was apparently the leader, and one that was worthy of the title. His burly arms bulged underneath the brown fur gloves that reached his elbows. He crossed the snow with ease, slicing through the terrain with equally strong calves. "You're very unfortunate to cross paths with us. I'd like to send you on your way, but we're out for blood here. If you leave the horse, we'll let you live. What say you?"

I let go of the reins, not to submit to the man's request, but so I could unsheathe my sword. There was a possibility I could get out of this alive and carry on searching for Master Pelham without having to worry about Ornello, but that possibility was slight. These were not men I could trust on a whim; who was to say that they didn't want my blood as well when my back was turned? 

I let out a controlled breath as I held my sword in front of me. I said nothing, but he correctly interpreted my answer. 

Ornello and I, despite being starved for days, were more prepared than we had ever been since we left Orleans. The auburn stallion made a point of snorting in warning and tossed his head menacingly as the men inched forwards to try and get hold of his reins.

I couldn't know how well I could fight in snow, but my days of travelling had helped me understand just how much strength I needed to move around. The leader swung his broad sword tantalisingly before lunging at me. Almost simultaneously, the others in the group followed his lead.

It wasn't about letting the nobles win or train the other soldiers; it was a matter of survival. I had trained so much for this purpose, and as my sword met with my opponents, I could feel no follow through on his part. He was relentless, but ultimately had no skill. I had trained so many like him, but I wasn't going to offer him any guidance for improvement.

These were weapons designed to maim, hurt, kill people. My sword drew its first blood, and the leader gave out a horrible scream in reply. I didn't flinch at the sound or recoil as blood spattered at my feet. I had never been the one to spill it until now, yet I felt no remorse.

I gave a muted groan as a club struck my back. I spun and swung my sword high, ducking ever so slightly to simultaneously avoid the second blow. The assailant received a gash from the chest up to his neck. Once again, I wasn't perturbed as yet more blood splashed freely onto my hand and face. I accidentally caught the strange aftertaste at the corner of my mouth.

The one wielding the axe was more troublesome, more because I hadn't sparred with such a fighter rather than because he was, in any way, skilled. He made a special effort to avoid the breastplate that protected my vitals, opting to slash sideways. I managed to counter a few blows in quick succession, each as strong as the previous.

Just as I parried another horizontal strike, my hand gave slightly at the sheer force of something glanced off my backplate. The tip of the other swordsman's weapon was visible from the corner of my eye, and I could feel the man panting in recoil at the failed attempt to penetrate my armour. The axe found its place in my thigh, but I didn't feel anything. I head butted the swordsman behind me and in a mad flurry stabbed him before he could strike again. 

The last few were not difficult to fend off, but I forced myself to make quick work of them before my body had a chance to collapse from exhaustion. 

When I finally took in the carnage that I had single-handedly caused, there was a strange beauty about it. Some were still struggling with their ragged breaths, but they were all up to their shoulders in the frozen earth. The pristine terrain had been defiled with scarlet, tainted beyond recognition.

In the confusion Ornello was nowhere to be seen. There was only the disturbed snow of the struggle that evidenced he was with me. 

It took a long time for my deep breaths to subside and for the constraint in my throat to loosen. My leg suddenly screamed in delayed agony, and my hand instinctively gripped onto the wound. I kept my pressure there, too afraid to ascertain how badly I had taken the hit. I winced as I tried to bear weight on my right leg, too heavy to lift it. 

I had lost my bearings, but I had to press on, one foot first and trailing the other through the snow. I nearly left them all behind, but I stopped at one dead man to rob him of his warm mantle. He had no further use of it now.

I didn't look back, but the immediate warmth that the mantle offered lessened my violent shivering. I didn't know how many trees I had gone past or indeed if I had seen them already. Each excruciating step cost me time I didn't have, yet I refused to let fatigue get the better of me. 

I had no idea how long it was or how far I had gone before I had to stop for rest. My injury refused to subside and reminded me at every possible moment it would do everything to impede my search for Master Pelham. 

I had to hurry, so I could be there at his side to protect him. Unlike me, his swordsmanship was only in the arts rather than to kill. If he was to face a similar attack to what I had, could he fend them off?

The frozen winds caught my cheeks and the snow soaked my legs as I collapsed at the base of one of many dying trees, but my hand felt surprisingly warm. I managed a grimace as I looked down at my soiled hand. I weakly gathered a generous handful of snow and applied it to my leg, and grew content watching it slowly melt into a stream of red.


	21. Howl

My resilience to survive was both a blessing and a curse. Every time I lulled myself to sleep to forget the pain in my right leg, it felt like no time had passed at all by the time I woke, with one side of my body buried in the snow and the other shivering from the merciless winds. The wound healed each time I took a break, but opened up all over again without fail the instant I applied weight on it. The mantle I had stolen was only a temporary source of warmth; my shoulders still remained high and close to my neck and my digits continued to become clawed and blue. Even in Ornello's absence, the wolves didn't come for me and not a further soul came to rob me of what little possessions I had.

I could barely keep my eyes open as I ploughed on, forcing myself to the limits. I kept my mind focused on my master, determined to realise my selfish desire to be by his side. 

My stomach continuously complained as I kept starvation at bay and each footfall grew increasingly heavier. My teeth and tongue had a permanent aftertaste of dirty snow, the only source of water in an otherwise lonely world. My mind too grew weary from the desolate landscape and lack of energy, forming cruel illusions and leering shadows in the thickets. 

The wind seemed to talk to me, saying one word to warn me of my next obstacle. I pushed my back onto the nearest tree, so I could only be attacked frontally. One hand reached for my sword, but I wouldn't be able to defend myself even if I could see the wolves coming. I managed a few deep breaths before I felt its teeth on my shoulders.

"Hey, pull yourself together." 

More teeth grabbed hold of my hand, keeping the sword firmly in its sheath. Strangely it didn't hurt, and once I made the connection my assaulter was actually human, I dared to take a look.

Zed could have passed as a few decades older; snow was entwined within his black strands and over his tired eye. Only once he could feel my hand relax underneath his thick glove did he delve into his satchel and wordlessly pass a flask to me. 

I begrudgingly took the water from him. Whilst I had gotten by on snow, the first sip was a rush of pure and uncontaminated fluid, and once I started to drink it was a struggle to restrain myself. I had grown so used to the tangy aftertaste and salt I had forgotten what water was meant to be. My eyes accidentally met with his, and I found myself looking down guiltily at the nearly empty flask.

His next words were not what I expected. "Come back with us." 

I didn't dare look up. It had been so long since I had left Aurelis it had been a memory I struggled to recall. I had left with no intention of returning, and Elle, being the last one to see me, would surely have known that too. I couldn't recall her precise warnings of death, but I left that stable regardless and of my own vindication. 

Even if Zed wanted me to return to Aurelis, I couldn't stop here. I didn't belong where he did, out on the prairie basking in the dying flames of sunset. There was nothing in Aurelis for me now; I was going back to where I ought to be. I had to press on and fulfil the only duty that gave meaning to my existence. "I can't." The words left me forcefully and I had forgotten the sound of my own voice in the long days of solitude. "I have to keep going."

Zed didn't say anything, but he looked over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and noticed yet another familiar face on the snowy plains.

Sedgar hovered awkwardly by the horses the pair had presumably rode in pursuit, eying me with mixed emotions I couldn't quite pinpoint. His usually composed self was rigid, his shoulders set back squarely as he willed himself not to approach me. His chin was raised slightly as he faced the gales head on.

"Listen, those bandits were child's play. At this rate, it won't be long until the dragons find you," Zed continued carefully. I drew my leg back slightly as he evaluated my wound. I hadn't mentioned anything about my encounter - was that how they found me? "They have a keen sense of smell, particularly of blood. You're strong, but even you wouldn't be a match against them. You'll die within days."

I kept my gaze on Sedgar, avoiding Zed's point entirely. "Why did you come?" 

Sedgar gave a cruel laugh, one that effortlessly cut through the frozen air. "To be honest, I'm starting to wonder as well. I genuinely thought I was going to find you dead in a ditch, or we'd have to make the horrible choice whether to abandon the search before we put ourselves in danger. Clearly I was worried about nothing, since you're doing a grand job being an ungrateful jerk."

I got onto my feet, swatting away Zed's arm as he tried to force me down again. I wouldn't have been surprised if the wound opened up like it had so many times before from the sudden movement, but I didn't care.

"I guess we're not good enough for you, are we? No one can love you as much as your precious master, right? That's why you're running back to him - it's the only thing you're good at." He folded his arms across his chest. "You're never going to find him, you know. You're wasting your time out here."

"I'll find him," I said tersely. The mutual feeling of tension resurfaced between us, as if I had never left Aurelis at all. There was something about his mannerisms and very presence that added to my intolerance.

"And what then?" Sedgar challenged. 

Sedgar shook his head and finally approached me. He didn't say anything until he was right up to me. I could see the snow that caught on his eyelashes, the redness of his cheeks that contrasted with his pale lips. He purposefully shoved me by the shoulder, forcing me to take a step back. "Coyote banished Master Pelham out here for a reason. No one's _meant_ to survive out here! He was dead long before you went on your stupid suicide mission! When are you going to realise that, you stupid idiot?" 

I couldn't find anything to say back. At the back of my mind, I had briefly considered the fact that he was already gone. It was the logical thing to believe, but I had put faith above that. Knowing he was alive was ultimately what kept me going. If he had really died before I went to look for him, that made me liable for his death. I should have ran to his side earlier - perhaps he would still be alive now. If I had resisted Coyote more, could Master Pelham's fate have been averted?

"Still, it's good riddance really," Sedgar said nonchalantly. "He was a terror to Aurelis, taking everything that took his fancy simply because he could. Scum like him deserve to die, and Coyote did us all a favour. I'm sure the dragons enjoyed the meal; all that meat with a side dish of ego." Sedgar turned on his heel. "He didn't do any good and no one would miss a man as vile as him."

I don't know how Sedgar ended up on the ground or how I came crashing down on him not long after. Where his unprepared body had cushioned my fall, the snow had mercifully cushioned his.

I grabbed Sedgar by the scruff of his high neck and pulled him towards me. His scar poked into view, but I kept my gaze locked with Sedgar's as I drew my arm back. He turned his cheek before impact, and I mildly hesitated.

I tightened my grip on his collar as I looked down at myself. His limbs were splayed out so artistically, so flawlessly vulnerable. I held the power, my full body weight keeping my prey pinned to the ground. Where my eyes should have looked back up in blank submission, Sedgar's were alive with fire and defiance. 

"Go on then, what are you waiting for?" 

My first strike came down weakly and grazed his nose, and Sedgar sneered at my weak display of violence. "Is that all you've got?"

Like the water that Zed had offered me, the subsequent blows came down more naturally and ferociously. I didn't want to see those eyes judging me, and I hammered down every time before he could reset his head to its original position. His face gradually became more battered and my fist screamed in agony, but he still continued to talk as he always did. 

"You're the bastard child of that deplorable man. He could have killed the pair of you, burying the humiliation and shame along with your mother's corpse, but no; that would have been far too easy. Instead he gave you both a fate worse than death: life." 

"Shut up!"

Even with his bottom lip bleeding, Sedgar continued to laugh to disguise the pain. "You were punished simply for existing. You were despicable, lower than anything or everything else! You weren't even worth a name, just a filthy rat surviving on scraps in the basement. That sick man reminded you every second you were less than nothing, violating you a little more each day. And even when he was satisfied, he carried on to see whether you could take it. He made you spend every day repenting simply for being alive."

"Lies!" My fingers were in danger of snapping in the cold, but my body continued to strike Sedgar rhythmically. "He looked after me when no one else did!"

"Your fate was sealed! You were his possession from the very start, a sick play toy! Your own father branded you, all so that he could raise and nurture the perfect slave. I bet you thought that brand on your back was a gift, didn't you? You're already an accessory; why not have something to prove it?"

"Shut up!" I brought both my hands to my head, trying to block out the words that Sedgar shouted at me. He couldn't possibly understand me, but his words bypassed reason. My heart pounded heavily in my throat, and every deliberate syllable Sedgar hurled at me amplified. It hurt so badly at the pit of my stomach, but logic wouldn't explain why it did.

This was worse than anything I'd been through. Where I used to know how to think or what to do to ease the suffering, I had no idea how to channel this overbearing pain. What did I have to do to make it stop? Why did it hurt so much?

"You know the best bit? He succeeded; you're precisely everything he wanted: helpless, dependable and goddamn weak!"

"Don't...I..."

My pleas were drowned by Sedgar's ever increasing insults. "You're pathetic! You were raised a slave and you didn't even realise! The whole of your 27 years have been spent doing that man's bidding, kissing his boots and ironing his tails; did you really think he kept you because he cared? You were a mistake, a good-for-nothing rat unworthy of basic human rights. He didn't love you; he loved the slave he had created. He could kick you round until you were unconscious, molest you until you wanted to die and you'd _still_ stay by him! You enjoyed that sick lifestyle, didn't you? You miss waking up to the stench of your sweat and mess, don't you? Wouldn't it be great to feel his nails round your neck again, his tongue half way down your throat?"

"Stop it!" I had given the perfect ammunition, and I realised my mistake too late.

Master Pelham sneered as he raised one arm to grab the back of my head. I gave a cry as he forced my head down, half expecting him to then toss me to one side or for the ring to catch onto the strands of hair. "Did he used to hold you like this?" he continued to gloat as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His other hand played with the toggles of the mantle. "Did he undress you or did you do that yourself? Did he compliment your beautiful eyes, rounded backside, those glorious purple bruises he inflicted on you? What did he whisper in your ear - promises of taking care of you perhaps, or a wonderful future together for eternity?"

My head fell into his chest as I screamed incomprehensible sounds that caught at my throat. The memories I had tried so hard to bury resurfaced, and my skin crawled as I felt his rough fingers over me. Words no longer formed, drowning out whatever else tried to break me from within. The warped cries reached my frostbitten ears, but it may as well have been someone else. The longer I howled, the more desperately I clung onto anything I could grip within reach. Hair, fabric, I couldn't feel the difference and tears blurred what vision I had.

I couldn't breathe. I could exhale, but every breathe I drew in was a wave of absolutely nothing. Why was I hurting so badly?

Sedgar brought both of his arms around my back, tilting my head into the curve of his strong chest. He kept a firm hold of me even though I only howled louder. 

He gently rocked my shaking body, enticing me to scream myself hoarse from the anguish. Every emotion I had buried to guarantee my survival, every thought I discarded to get through the day, everything I chose to suppress was suddenly out in the open. I had never been so humiliated, but my shoulders continued to shake uncontrollably.

It was only as my choked inhales became less ragged that I could hear Sedgar's heartbeat below the mass of clothing, steady but fast. I tried to breathe in time to calm myself.

"I'm sorry," Sedgar murmured at last, and he said it so softly I knew that he was back to his usual self. "It was the only way to get you to open up. You're such a proud fool you won't admit anything, not even to yourself."

I bit my lower lip as I gripped onto his front tighter. We had been avoiding each other for so long I had forgotten his sincerity and voice of reason. I hadn't realised how much I missed him. My chest rose as the tears threatened to come down all over again. 

"I'm so sorry Wolf, for everything," he said again. His voice seemed strained, and his breathing became more heavy. "You, of all people, didn't deserve any of this. They're years of your life that can't be undone and years that will be with you forever. But I promised on the day we met that I'd never give up on you. I'll always be there to support you, no matter what. If it gets too much, let me share your burden. I'm not going anywhere."

I closed my eyes out of exhaustion and made a small sound of acknowledgement. I didn't dare reply, for my throat was still sore and would distort anything I wanted to say. Sedgar brought me closer to his chest, yet I felt none of the discomfort or desensitisation I adopted when Master Pelham touched me. In fact, it was strangely comfortable being in his arms, sheltered from the frozen winds.

"Master Pelham's death isn't your fault. That part of your life is finally over; there's no one left to serve. You need to look forwards and build your life on a clean slate. A life you deserve, full of friends who love you and happy memories worth keeping. So please...stop looking for him, Wolf."


	22. No Discipline

I had barely opened the door to our dormitory before Vyland landed a powerful punch in greeting. My armour may as well have been made of parchment as it took me everything to make sure I kept my balance. It was a long time before my body remembered how to breathe, and it was any wonder that none of my ribs had broken.

"Don't _ever_ do that again!" Where Sedgar had set his personal feelings to one side to provoke me, Vyland made sure that their combined worry and anger reached me. His frustration was concentrated in that single blow, and I could fully appreciate I had done something wrong in running away.

That was the closest resemblance of a punishment I had received, and after that all was apparently forgotten about.

Whatever excuse Vyland had given Coyote for my disappearance and the subsequent absence of Sedgar seemed to work. The next time that Coyote saw us, he was visibly relieved before assigning us with patrol duties at the outskirts of Aurelis. He had only briefly touched on whether our extensive training was useful and Sedgar had provided a vague but otherwise sufficiently truthful response. Coyote hadn’t suspected a thing, and rather than considering it a blessing, I felt guilty for not telling him the full story.

Sedgar was quick to notice my uneasiness and, once Coyote was out of earshot, reassured me that it was kinder to keep Coyote ignorant of the incident. The episode was all done and dusted; Coyote had no reason to consider matters that were otherwise resolved. Sedgar assured me that should the story come out, he would take full responsibility and I wouldn’t be undermined for keeping it from Coyote.

Zed too was sworn into unanimous secrecy, but for a man who didn't take to lengthy and unnecessary conversation, it was a task that was a given for him. I learnt that it was precisely because of his nature Sedgar had asked him to retrieve me in the first place, and my undignified breakdown gradually found its way into the abyss of suppressed memories. Zed had also somehow managed to cover up Ornello, and although Roshea was initially dejected by the loss, that too was resolved with no sign of punishment. 

Everything that transpired in the northern borders died with Master Pelham.

Within a few days, it was terrifying how easily things slipped back to how they once were. After months of avoiding and being avoided, I grew content being around Sedgar again. He no longer needed to evaluate me every second and I tolerated his presence. He would always be there whenever I needed him, and he never let me forget that fact. 

Sedgar's imitation of Master Pelham had triggered something. My armour protected my physical being, but my mind started to destroy itself from within.

Master Pelham crawled into my idle thoughts at every chance he could, and when he did it was hard to dispel his touch and his moans of pleasure. No matter how much I reminded myself he was dead, reminded myself I was still fully clothed, I felt him on my skin, _inside_ me, and his taste lingered as I wetted my dry lips. The nights grew longer as I battled him alone, fighting the paranoia to convince myself I wasn't going to wake up tied to the wall. 

I submersed myself in familiar, habitual training to keep Master Pelham away in my waking hours. I trained until I couldn't sweat anymore and my body grew weary, but I would carry on and ignore the pan. My mind had become a little more focused whilst I was on the northern borders and, once I had brought my strength up to sufficient levels again, my body remembered every technique to ride and shoot as if I hadn’t missed a day. The men I had trained had both improved significantly and developed strange habits I had an obligation to correct, Sedgar and Vyland included. 

The voluminous contents of strategy books and war tactics continued to test me with their difficult words and long-winded narrative, but I found myself doodling on spare parchment of scenarios to better understand the scriptures. Sometimes people would sit with me and ask me to explain my scrawls meant, and for the most part I complied, so that I could hear my train of thought and bring out the flaws I would have otherwise overlooked.

In a bid to better myself, I asked Odessa if she would be willing to help me apply my growing skills on horseback. As being one of 'King Baelis' men', she had the distinct advantage of years of academic training and experience. She seemed delighted to tutor me, and we often rode out to the prairie to practice. I was not the only one who came to realise her tutoring would be useful, and before long the entourage became bigger as others invited themselves along for the training.

"It's all about balance.” Odessa picked up the lance from the ground and held it up to me. "If you have a lance in one hand, you need to compensate on the other side to make sure the horse is balanced as well. If you consciously feel yourself being dragged down by the weight, make sure you straighten up otherwise there’s a real chance of falling off and hurting yourself."

I nodded. I kept hold of the reigns firmly in my left hand as I leaned over to retrieve the lance from her. The wound on my leg had healed considerably since Zed treated it properly, but from time to time the sudden pain reminded me it was still there. 

Elle had mentioned in passing I had a natural talent in archery, and given time I could easily master how to shoot on horseback. I needed to be able to wield a cumbersome lance when I needed to, so that I was fully prepared to take both hands off the reigns.

"The worst thing that can happen is to fall off the horse," Odessa continued as she made the rounds and issued the next lance to Fraser. "You could get your foot caught in the stirrups and break your ankle, or otherwise put yourself in a dangerous position. What should you do if the horse gets spooked?"

I didn't hear who answered Odessa's plausible scenario. I caught Vyland's eye as he strolled into the stable. "You’re late."

Vyland waved a hand dismissively in greeting as he went by. Odessa also gave him a fleeting glance as she continued to talk, but I was too distracted by Vyland to take in anything that she was saying.

I missed the early days when it had just been me and Sedgar, but it was because of me that he stopped coming. When I started testing out the inventory for our training, I had the unrestrained urge to pick out the faults. It didn’t matter what reached my hands – javelins, steel swords, they were all substandard. Since then, Sedgar used the time I practiced on the field to delve into the armoury and tinker with weapons to make the adjustments I suggested and try to better the ones I hadn’t had the chance to criticise.

I watched Vyland slink off to the back of the stables. Although Vyland had resumed Sedgar's place, he was much more relaxed than I could tolerate.

He made a beeline towards a particular horse, and I noted Roshea's look of recognition as he held the reigns out. Considering how prepared the horse was, it seemed clear that Roshea had been waiting for some time.

I rolled my eyes in disapproval. This wasn't the first time and it was fast getting out of hand. I broke the ranks of nicely lined up soldiers, taking care not to hit anything or anyone with the lance as I went by.

"Thanks mate, you're a real lifesaver." Although Vyland had tried to whisper, he was incapable of talking quietly. 

"Don’t spoil him, Roshea – he needs to learn how to prep his own horse and take responsibility for his lack of timekeeping."

Roshea jolted and looked between us. There was an apparent look of guilt in those large eyes of his. "I was just trying to help."

I sighed. He didn't need to justify himself; I was no master to him, and neither was Vyland. "And if we suddenly get ambushed, are you going to be able to predict Vyland is going to need his horse then? He has a pair of hands; he's just being a lazy git."

"Ouch Wolf, I'm right here," Vyland retorted as he prepared to mount. 

What was I doing? What duty did I owe either of them? I should have left Vyland to it, see the error of his ways by the master's hand. Everyone else had to learn the hard way; Coyote was our master, and yet why didn't he raise a hand to those who were negligent in their training? Why didn't he punish those who didn't pull their weight? Why did he feed the sloppy ones on equal terms with the hardworking ones? 

I lowered my gaze as I gripped the reigns tighter. This way of life would never make sense.

"If there's an emergency, then yes I know the theory and I can do it myself," Vyland reassured me as he brought his huge frame onto the horse's back. "I just get a bit carried away talking to people en route, and Roshea always has my back."

I blinked slowly. I certainly knew that Vyland had a tendency of getting sidetracked, but I had my doubts he could adeptly prepare his mount quickly in the state of an emergency. If he didn't do the routine the same as everyone else, he didn't have the valuable experience to be at the same speed as everyone else.

And yet...why was I so worked up about it? Was any of this my problem?

Roshea managed a strained nod as he picked up a heavy lance next and held it up for Vyland. "I help out because I don't want you to fall behind." He rocked on his feet slightly as he turned to look at me. "If you don't want me to though, I won't." He waited until he was relieved of the lance before he blurted out something he had been holding back for a while. "But, um, if it's not too much trouble, can I watch?"

"No – you'll get in the way," I said before Vyland could manage a word edgeways. I raised my arm slightly to get a better grip on the lance.

"I'll try not to be," he said rather dejectedly. He fingered his sleeve, fidgeting as he struggled to find the right words. "I'll stay to the sides and I won't distract you. You know I've worked with horses all my life, so I can help as an observer."

Vyland quirked an eyebrow. "I actually agree with Wolf; you're only a kid. We can't keep an eye on you and train at the same time."

Roshea pouted. "I'm eighteen. I know how to keep safe."

"Well, you probably do," Vyland agreed sheepishly, "but that doesn't change the fact we'll need to make sure you're not doing anything stupid. Plus there's a lot of stupid and reckless riders to watch out for. Like me."

The clinking of bridles and the dull sound of hooves on soil made me look up. I couldn't see Odessa anymore, but she was presumably taking the helm as the soldiers started to file out the stable. They all knew what the training had in store; I had been severely penalised due to Vyland's distracting entrance. 

It was at that point I realised I no longer cared. Every second I wasted here was expending energy better used for training. I didn’t have time for idle chatter or petty fights any longer, and I wasn't going to get dragged down by this. I dug my heels into the horse's side and encouraged it to follow the rest of its kind.   
   
I was barely out the stable before Vyland caught up with me with a big grin on his face. "That sneaky kid had already prepared his horse and everything. What are we going to do with him?"


	23. What's Done is Done

In all the times that I had sparred with Kyle and Jason or saw them at dinner surrounded by equally broad-shouldered comrades, I never said more than I had to. In return they too didn't associate with me much, only accepting my often silent invitation to spar when it suited them. They were capable together and came as a pair. 

Kyle was arguably the burlier of the two, with sideburns that reached half way down his face and stringy hair (either from grease or sweat, I could never tell) hanging over his ears. Although there were wash facilities freely available, it seemed he frequented it as much as he did when he was a slave. 

He made no move to sit with me, despite there being a huge number available at this hour in the library. Instead he hovered slightly behind me as he tried to read the material I was trying to decipher.

"Can I help?" I said calmly as I folded one corner and closed the book. The library too was free for anyone to use, but if I had insulted Kyle in some way, I didn't mind leaving and freeing the space for him. Vyland had gone to The Black Stallion to rekindle his desire for women and Sedgar had accompanied him as his sidekick, and I expected that they wouldn't be back for another few hours.

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to find the words. I waited patiently for him to confirm I should go. "Can I see your brand?" he asked instead.

I narrowed my eyes somewhat. Although there was no malice in what Kyle said, I didn't feel obliged to fulfil his request. I remember Coyote telling me that it was only human to keep a few things to myself. I was an accessory to Coyote and his brother, so everything I owned was theirs as well; I didn't owe the same duty to every other soldier I met. "Why?"

He looked away slightly. "Well...It's a common misconception that the larger the brand is, the longer you've been a slave for. The blokes and I quite often have a bit of a banter about it, having contests about who has the biggest brand or who has the deepest scars. We've all been through some seriously bad times, but we can joke about it." He sighed. "Truth is, you're different. For you, it's not just about time; the brand proves that you were exceptionally young, much younger than anyone else in the army. So I wanted to see it for myself. Only if it's okay with you though," he added hastily. "I'm sorry if it's insensitive."

I sighed. I still remembered how Sedgar had asked to see mine as well, and for some reason it seemed to be a topic of sensitivity and interest. "No, I'm sorry for asking." I loosened the ties of my shirt and tugged at the back of my collar for him to do the rest. It was too much effort for one look to bother taking off the backplate as well. 

Kyle was careful as he brought the clothing out as far as he could. There was a strange sound that came from his throat as he saw what Master Pelham had done to me. 

Once he had enough, he let go of my collar and almost fell into the waiting chair next to me. "I'm really sorry."

I didn't say anything as I sorted out my shirt. I opened up the book again; if that was all Kyle came for, there was nothing more to be said. I could see him at the corner of my eye still staring blankly ahead as I continued where I had left off. 

"So it's true then? You were a slave since birth?"

I made a small sound of confirmation, not even bothering to look up. I would have thought that much was clear from the brand, the very thing Kyle wanted to see for himself. 

He looked across at me and his mouth threatened to open again. "I also heard that...well, your main keeper was your dad."

I tried to confirm that too, however my distant sound of reply barely left my throat. Kyle probably didn't hear.

"That is messed up on so many levels. All that time you served...did you, you know, make the connection?"

I had now read the same sentence for the fifth time without actually taking it in. Despite my growing intolerance, my expression remained as it was. "Does it matter?" I turned the page idly, only so that I had new material to look at. 

Kyle's eyes drifted to his knees. "No, I guess not." 

Every other question that Kyle wanted to ask had apparently dissipated, for we fell into a stony silence. Kyle's deep breathing otherwise broke what silence I was more accustomed to, yet my mind had been sufficiently distracted and wandered towards thoughts other than the text before me. "Did Sedgar tell you?"

"No, Heather did." 

I finally looked up to Kyle a pointed look. "Who?"

"Heather - she said that she worked with you at the house you served."

We only called each other rats in that household. There was no way for me to know which one had now called herself Heather.

"Do you know where I can find her?" The rats and I didn't get along, and I suspected that she was disclosing my past either for her own personal gain or to discredit me in some way. Although I had done my best to avoid everyone I had worked with at the Pelham Estate, it was something I couldn't put off any longer. 

Kyle informed me that she had been a skilled cook when she served, and as he described her physical features, I mentally tried to whittle down the rats by process of elimination. It proved to be difficult though as I couldn't remember every one of them in the first place, and it took me a while to realise that the one with the lazy eye had died already. 

When I did eventually meet Heather the next day, preparations for dinner were in full swing and the kitchen was bustling with thick smoke and intense heat. Although her skin was fairly dark despite the layer of grime being scrubbed off, it was a complexion that was probably as smooth as it looked. Her fingernails were no longer chewed to the edge, her arms no longer streaked with rose thorns or cuts or burns. 

Unlike me, she recognised me instantly. 

The ladle fell into the waiting stew with a clatter. Her hands met her mouth to hide the fact she was biting her lower lip, and her eyes began to water as she looked at me up and down. "By Naga, it's really you." Her torso lifted sharply before she stretched out her bat-winged arms. "Come here." 

And yet despite those words, she was the one who approached me, and brought her large arms around my back. My chin was forced to sit on top of her shoulder awkwardly. Her breasts pressed against my chest until it hurt. "I've wanted to do this for so long. Poor, beautiful soul."

I didn't say anything. The aroma of stew was strangely alluring, and the tight embrace rooted me on the spot. My arms stayed at my side and my fingers curled in discomfort. For some reason my eyes tried to drift shut. 

"I would have given anything to hold you the way I can now. Even though you're right here, I still can't believe it. You've turned into a fine man, Wolf."

She finally let go, dusting her front to rid herself of what horrible things had transferred from me. "We all knew about your lineage. The Master knew we did as well, so he made us hurt you, play the villains in his games, so that you would distance yourself from us and seek refuge with him. We kept it under wraps so that it wouldn't be any harder on you, playing along in the hopes that one day you'd connect with us of your own accord. We couldn't do a thing to spare you of the anguish, the pain, and--" 

"None of that matters now," I said dismissively. I had always considered the other rats to be fleeting. They all merged into one entity of tiredness and subservience, each coming as quick as they were dying. 

Heather shook her head. "Of course it matters. You have no concept of the things that people take for granted. You faced those challenges alone when you shouldn't have. We wanted to show you what a parent should have been to you, and be the family you needed as you grew up. It broke our hearts every single day seeing him manipulate you and make you do things against your will. Those who died held the same feelings, and they'd be so proud of you if they could see you now."

She gave a light sigh. "Us rats know everything you've been through, but the crowd here is different. People perceive you as unsociable and rude. They know you don't mean it, and many accept that that's just the way you are. It started off with innocent remarks like saying you were strange, eccentric or there was something not right about you."

I went past her and resumed to stir the simmering beverage that existed to be consumed. I was pulling her away from her work; she'd get in trouble because of me.

"A few weeks ago, the rumours escalated. They were careful because they knew that Sedgar would be on their case in a heartbeat, and Coyote wouldn't be far behind. They started to get more obscene, the theories started to get more detailed and there were loud banters about who could come up with the most horrific stories. They mimicked you and thought it to be funny. They joked about practical pranks to pull, and the bolder ones went ahead with it to see if they could get a response. One time at dinner, it was just too much and I couldn't take it anymore. So I stood up and told everyone in the room exactly what you went through. I told them about Master Pelham being your father and what that does to a man."

I gave her a blank look. "I don't exist to be liked; I exist to be everything Coyote needs me to be. What other people think or say hardly affects my service." I furrowed my eyebrows as the sweet steam of stew caressed my face. I never asked her to divulge my history, but she had taken liberties in affairs that didn't concern her. "It all happened to me, not you. How do you interpret 'exactly what I went through'?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but she maintained composure. "It wasn’t easy talking about you, but what they needed was perspective. You were kept as a slave for more than double the amount of time most people have; they can't even begin to comprehend the full extent of your trauma." She lowered her head. "I'm sorry."

I gave an irritated sigh before discarding the ladle to one side. It spun on the surface with a dull clatter and I watched the crockery draw an arc of creamy stew. In my momentary display of rage, I felt the tiniest sensation of satisfaction. "Don't be; what's done is done."


	24. Gross Misinterpretations

Ever since I learnt about Heather's betrayal, I became increasingly paranoid of my comrades. I continued to spar and instruct, the same as I always did, but I knew I wasn't nearly as protected as I was before. I failed to distinguish between those who were judging me, those who took pity on me and those who had no idea. They were constantly watching me, all waiting for me to slip up or snap. My background fast became common knowledge, and I heard the silent whispers of gossip in their hardened eyes as I sat in the dining hall or went to retrieve my arrows.

I came to realise there was only a handful I could trust in the sea of predators, and that was Sedgar, Vyland and Coyote. I told Sedgar nearly as soon as I was finished with Heather, and he only apologised for not doing what she did first. It wasn't the response I needed; I needed him to be as frustrated as I was for insincere breach of confidence. 

I didn't know whether Sedgar had, like so many times, gone ahead and reported to Coyote. I received the invite to see him and that was all there was.

Coyote's office was smaller than I had imagined, with an ornate desk taking up most of the room. A large opening in the wall allowed him a direct view of the courtyard should he wish to turn round, and the distant sound of swords clanging and inaudible clamour seemed to drift into the room. They were noises I was accustomed to, but it seemed strange to hear from above.

"Take a seat." He gestured in front of him as he looked up all too briefly in acknowledgement, and I tentatively took the waiting seat there. 

There were drawings of multiple colours strewn across the table, but towards one side I recognised the distinct outline of Aurelis. Most were weighed down by splendid bronze figures of horses and the corners waved and crinkled in the subtle breeze. Coyote's fingers ran across contours and parchment, making hurried notes as he navigated the maps.

It wasn't until he had reached the waterline that he set his pen down.

"I wanted to give you something." He leaned to one side and there was the smooth sound of a drawer opening. He carefully took out a box and, despite his dedication to hastily write his notes down, he set the box on the table without even bothering to move the paperwork out the way. 

I looked between the object and him. "I don't understand."

Coyote slid the box closer to me so that it almost touched my elbow. He ignored the small protests of parchment as they threatened to tear. "Regrettably I can't seem to recall the exact day you first came to us, but I'm almost positive it's been over a year now. I've already told Sedgar and Vyland, but today is also what we're going to call your birthday. You will recall the time we went to Princess Elice's birthday celebrations in Altea?"

I nodded slowly. I couldn't remember much of the party itself save for the fact it was one of the most gruelling experiences I had been through in my time with Coyote. I had tried to return to the ballroom after Camus had taken me outside, but my tolerance lessened every time I did and I slinked back out to gather my dying wits. Coyote grew concerned about my comings and goings, and he came to check up on me in the courtyard. My body convulsed in relief at the sight of him, and I instantly regretted my lack of self-discipline. Coyote, despite me humiliating him, thought very little of it and merely asked the castle servants to clear up my mess. He said something about the flowers dying by the end of the week, but I felt too ashamed to fully engage with him. Despite my protests he bade goodnight to the Altean royal family and we were forced to leave earlier than most because of me.

"It's quite customary for people to celebrate being alive," Coyote continued. "Every year lived is an accomplishment, something to be proud of. It acts as a milestone of how much you've grown, and you more than anyone deserve to be commemorated for your development. Open your present."

I lowered my gaze at the wooden box. Coyote shouldn't be giving me anything; there was no logic to it. Whatever traditions they had was customary to them, not the likes of me. 

I tentatively fingered the fine edges of the box. The thin lid teased me as it tried to open as I did so. I looked up at Coyote one last time to confirm it was definitely what he wanted me to do.

Although I had seen many weapons in the armoury, the one that Coyote was giving to me was much more than that. The dagger couldn't have been more than ten inches, but it boasted more splendour than anything I had seen. The Aurelian coat of arms was intricately embossed on the leather sheath, the very same that I had seen so many times over the doorway to the training rooms. The fierce scarlet underlay accentuated the splendid handle of dull ivory, and the complexity of its crossguard made it a single object of perfection. 

"It was given to me by my father. I want you to have it." 

I brought my hands together, more to resist stroking the emblem than anything. Someone like me shouldn't own such an item. I had worked with Coyote for so long I knew he didn't take pleasure in dangling temptations before me. Coyote meant every word, and it was moments like this I would have preferred if he didn't.

"I'll keep it safe," I chose to reply. Why else would he entrust such a valuable object to me? If I considered his gift as an extension of safekeeping, that would fulfil my duty. It was technically in my possession, but it still belonged to him and he could claim it back whenever he wanted.

Coyote gave a curt nod, and I was relieved that that was enough to satisfy him. "I'm also conscious that you've worked every day of your life, so Sedgar and Vyland are taking you out to surprise you. I want you to listen to everything they tell you and, most importantly, you're going to enjoy yourself. You hear me?"

I imagined Coyote's idea of 'having fun' as a rehash of Princess Elice's birthday, and I knew it was going to be unbearable. I wasn't to argue though, and I lowered my head in affirmation before making my exit with the box under one arm.

They were both waiting for me, and where I was eager to resume back to training, both Vyland and Sedgar insisted that I do no such thing. They argued I had what they called a 'day off' and the whole purpose of it was not to work. It was a term beyond sense and it frustrated me how they failed to understand that. I didn't see how partaking in recreational activities helped Coyote, much like how Vyland's visits to the tavern were anything but fruitful.

The conversation flitted between the three of us with neither party backing down, all the while I pressed ahead to the stable so that we didn't disrupt Coyote. In the end, Sedgar conceded and let me ride for one hour only. I begrudgingly parted with the dagger Coyote had told me to look after, leaving it with Vyland to stow away in our dormitory and out of sight. The training was all but fleeting, and I instantly missed the weight of my sword and the satisfactory ache in my thighs as I dismounted.

Akaneia was too far to ride to in a day, so they opted to take me to a quaint theatre at the edge of Aurelis. Vyland informed me what the play was about before we saw it, mentioning several times over that it was a very famous one that every Aurelian knew about. He reeled off names like he spoke to them every day, and just as he finished he got into a verbal fight with Sedgar about the significance of one particular character. 

Even with prior knowledge of the play, I spent the majority of the show feeling exceedingly agitated. It wasn't completely dark, so mercifully I could still see the outlines of Vyland and Sedgar on either side of me. I took note of their defined profiles as they watched the show, their eyes darting across the stage or the face relaxing entirely as they threw their heads back in unrestrained laughter. Sedgar occasionally caught my eye, and he'd smile at me or otherwise lean across to ask if I was okay. 

Their presence – a cough, the accidental brush of the arm – was enough to make me feel less vulnerable. I was confined to the seat and left in the dark, but I knew he wouldn't return for me; there was too much of an audience. He needed me to himself, and in a room of strangers he couldn't move freely. I knew all that (and I reminded myself constantly that Master Pelham was dead), but I still kept my wits about me and prepared for the worst.

"So? What did you think?" Vyland asked once we were out and breathing the fresh air once more. 

I leaned out the way slightly to make way for Vyland's elbow as he stretched. I couldn’t really follow the story as it seemed everything that was said on the stage was followed by shrieks of humour on all sides. All the while I wanted to understand what was going on, my concentration always broke without fail. From what little of the performance I saw though, there was a lot of tripping over and exaggerated hand gestures. 

I didn't know what I was supposed to think. "Did something like that happen?"

Vyland and Sedgar exchanged looks before the former gave a noisy snort. 

"It's the work of a writer," Sedgar explained. "Some writers do have personal experiences, but for the most part it’s come from their imagination rather than events. We can safely say that nothing like that happened whatsoever. No, what Vyland's trying to ask is did you enjoy it."

I shrugged. For someone who had nulled his senses for years, what was I supposed to think about such a story, or lack thereof? Everything I thought of was based on solid facts rather than what Sedgar or Vyland would categorise as emotions. I didn't find amusement in the same things as they did, and this mission made me realise just how different I was to them. "I guess," I answered hesitantly. That was the answer it sounded like he wanted.

Sedgar picked up on my half-hearted answer instantly. "Maybe if you go to a few more, you'll know for certain whether it's something you like or not. You wouldn’t think it, but Vyland's more knowledgeable of the Arts than I am. What would you recommend for next time?" he called over.

Vyland rubbed the back of his neck idly. "Wings of Freedom is pretty good, far less comical than this one. It retells the story of King Iote and how he liberated the slaves in Medon several centuries ago. I've only seen it here, but I've heard they do it much better in Medon. They train dragons to perform and the theatre is open air."

I frowned at the thought of travelling out of the familiar ambiance of Aurelis. I wasn't confident that I would enjoy it in Medon any better than I did in my own kingdom. What was the point going somewhere so far away for something so unproductive?

In contrast, Sedgar was evidently enthralled by the idea. "Seriously? Actual dragons?"

"Actual dragons," Vyland repeated with a little more emphasis. "It doesn't get any better than that. The tickets are really exclusive though, so they’re normally booked up for a year or so."

"How much do they cost?"

Vyland shrugged. "Enough to say I should start saving. It'll be worth it though, and I know that it'd blow all our minds." His eyes drifted up to the sky dreamily, and a content smile played on his lips. "I can already see it."

Sedgar gave me a small nudge. "What do you say, something for next year?"

How could the pair of them be so flippant? They were talking of future plans, ideology that had no basis. They were talking about going to Medon, days if not weeks away from serving Coyote. The maps had precarious mountains that cut Aurelis away from the southern isle, an obvious warning that restricted us to Aurelis and everything good to us. 

What he was suggesting was beyond disrespectful. It was an absolute disgrace they were even contemplating such plans and I would have no part in it.

"Are you telling me to abandon Coyote for some fictional farce, is that it? I won't fall for such heinous temptations; If you had the slightest shred of decency and loyalty towards him, you wouldn't either," I retorted.

Sedgar pulled a face of mild reproach and he shook his head several times. "I never said that!" 

Vyland broke into peels of laughter, much harder than he had within the closed theatre. People turned their heads at him, but he didn't care. Even when he started to wipe the corners of his eyes, he only raised his other hand to try and catch his breath, and once he sufficiently calmed down, he looked at me only to choke all over again. 

I didn't see what made my comments any more comical than the performance we had just seen. I had made a valid point, but the two of them didn't even attempt to address the serious issue. Sedgar shook his head in amusement at the sight of Vyland as he too tried and failed to contain himself. The longer they continued to laugh, the more I came to realise I wouldn't get an answer.

I had felt something similar that time in Duke Reuven's estate. I had forgotten what passing remark Coyote had said about me, but the small, distinct feeling of being the outcast of an otherwise animated banter was one I couldn't. I couldn't care less about being the observer in an otherwise ridiculous display of over-the-top, fake pleasure. There was an invisible barrier that would always separate me from everyone else, separate me from Sedgar, Vyland and all their curious dealings, and I honestly didn't mind.

As a matter of fact, I preferred to be this side of the barrier.


	25. Take Some Responsibility

Even though I didn't accompany him every night, everyone knew where to find Zed if they needed him. If he wasn't on the prairie, he was in the corner of the stable, often with thick thread between his fingers as he fixed bridles or with horseshoes scattered around his feet. Sometimes Elle would be with him too, polishing her armour with her back against him. I occasionally sat with him to learn his ways, taking whatever equipment I was working on back to the dormitory so I could improve on it in the evening and sometimes well into the night whilst as I waited for Sedgar and Vyland to return from the tavern. 

Just like what eventually happened with everyone I had ever worked with, he suddenly vanished without a trace. I wasn't worried; it was just strange when things weren't as they should be. I didn't make myself obvious, but Elle was quick to notice my agitation and confirmed that Zed had had a seizure whilst riding, and was taking time out to fully recover.

In Zed's absence, Roshea was often the one to take up the running of the stable. He told Coyote that he was happy not to return home to work over the weekends, and instead spent the entirety of his time grooming the horses and letting soldiers know which ones needed to be exercised. It was a lot for one boy to take on, but he managed splendidly and his innocent smile never seemed to waver. Vyland too noticed Roshea's dedication and he tried to help out where he could, but he tended to create more problems faster than he could solve them.

The major concern after Zed fell ill though was Sienna. She had been partnered with Zed for so long she knew instantly something was wrong, and as a consequence she threw a tantrum whenever anyone got close to her. It was uncharacteristic of her, and took the other soldiers somewhat by surprise. That was precisely the problem with horses not used to other riders. She still needed regular exercise, and with Fraser busy nursing Zed and Roshea handling everything else, I took it upon myself to earn her trust. It was strangely calming as well for me, and it became easier to be even slightly content with myself. I stroked her nose, talked to her only as much as necessary, groomed her hair and cleaned her hooves, never fearing any form of retaliation. She could pick up on fear, and in time she knew I held none.

It didn't take long for Roshea to realise what I was doing, and he thanked me continuously for my efforts. By the time I was in a position to ride her, Roshea was overjoyed.

"You really can ride any horse you like," he said admirably as he straightened up. He hadn't finished grooming the stallion he was tending to, but he left the comb on the stable door and made to approach me. 

I shrugged. It wasn't all to do with compatibility like Roshea believed. Riding on multiple horses was common sense to me. There was no set way to ride all of them, so it was a matter of adjusting to each horse's preferences. Having such flexibility ensured I didn't fall into any bad habits whilst simultaneously improving my current skills. Roshea, more than anyone, should have known that. 

He made sure that Sienna could still see him before reaching out to pat her on the neck. I loosened the reins to let her know that she was in safe hands, and she only gave a grumpy snort in reply.

"Do you think Zed will get better?" Roshea asked suddenly. 

I didn't know the specifics of Zed's seizure, but I visited him every night to tell him of the sunsets he missed. He didn't say much to me, but he mentioned once that no one understood the prairie like I did. That was reason enough for me to continue the visits and give Fraser some time to himself.

Was Roshea starting to suffer from taking over Zed's duties? He didn't seem tired and his expression was serious, but perhaps he was struggling more than he was putting on. 

My reply was simple. "I don't know."

Roshea's eyes didn't leave Sienna's as he brought his hand back again. "It doesn't feel right here. He's always been in that corner. He doesn't say anything, but you know he's there. I miss him." He managed a brave smile, and his eyes seemed unfocused. "When do you think he'll come back?"

Roshea still refused to look at me, directing his questions to Sienna. I thought it incredibly rude, and I breathed deeply to try and control my frustration. It was a futile attempt, and my anger had to surface one way or another.

"He won't, so get used to it." 

Sienna picked up on my change of mood instantly, and she trod the ground just as irritably. I gripped tighter on the reins to make sure she didn't stray too far. 

Roshea pulled a face as he bit down on his lip. His eyes continued to dart at anything but me.

I had never been like this in the Pelham estate. I kept myself to myself; it was easier to maintain composure even in the harshest of circumstances that way. Heather had mentioned that I was hostile towards others, even though I didn't mean it. She didn't seem to understand that I mean every word I say. Perhaps it was constant exposure to Vyland that made me so short-tempered. 

I gave a resigned sigh. I preferred it when I was alone, but I had to make the effort to look after Roshea because Coyote needed him. "I'm going to the prairie and you're no use as an emotional wreck here, so get some fresh air. I'll wait."

Roshea still looked like he was going to cry, but he gave a firm nod. He took an exceedingly long time to prepare, and I had to go out in the paddock to warm Sienna up to keep her focused. 

There were already a few people on the prairie by the time we got there, and a couple of them waved as we joined them. I ignored them and looked round for Vyland and Sedgar who had set off earlier than I had, but came to the conclusion that they were training elsewhere. It was closer to midday with the sun peeking out of ominous clouds nearly above us, but Sienna seemed content with the grass under her hooves despite it not being the usual sunset ride. She needed to race, and I was more than happy to run with her to her heart's content.

Roshea stayed to one side, watching the world go by and occasionally trotted round in circles to keep his horse awake. There was so much room for him and he was wasting this opportunity.

I kept my eyes firmly on the horizon as I rode around the prairie, and I soon found myself squinting to guide Sienna through the steady downpour. The leather reins was rigid in my frozen grip and I vaguely acknowledged the dampness of my skin. The thumping of hooves were muted in the deep mud, but I felt the strong kick of soil as Sienna pressed ahead. 

The distinct proximity of moment caught the corner of my eye. I instinctively looked across at Harlequin's sleek brown mane beside me, and before I knew it I was shoulder to shoulder to Elle.

She gave a firm nod in greeting. "You did well to tame her," she shouted at me to be heard over the rain.

I didn't reply; there was no merit in replying.

"Just make sure you don't tire her out too much. You need to decide what her limits are."

I already knew that, but I made no attempt to slow down. Instead I dug my heels deeper into Sienna to see if she would go any faster. 

Harlequin breathed heavily to try and keep up with us, and even through her damp fringe I could see Elle's look of disappointment. "What's Roshea doing here? Shouldn't he be clearing out the stables like he normally does?"

Elle wasn't hard to figure out as she said exactly what was on her mind. Her remarks were often scathing and precisely why she held such a reputation. She absolutely abhorred being weighed down in any way, and having Roshea on the field was probably an insult to her. 

I shrugged. I didn't need to explain myself to her, but I couldn't leave the question unanswered. "He needed to get away."

Elle threw her head back in laughter, and I wouldn't have been surprised if everyone else on the prairie heard. "You need to take some responsibility of the kid then rather than galavanting off. This is a field for soldiers, men fighting for their country, not stable boys who can't wield a sword."

She waved a hand dismissively before she changed direction entirely. 

I didn't know how long we ran until I brought Sienna to a halt. I didn't know what had made me stop in my tracks, just that I needed to stop running. I turned my face to the great open sky of grey. The squelch of hooves and chinks of weapons couldn't break through the strong downpour. The rain found its way down my collar and in my ears, and in time there was so much water gathered on my face I couldn't feel the raindrops land. Its cold touch on my cheeks and ears kept my head raised to the heavens. I had never felt so empty of thoughts, embracing the sky's open banks and simply watching. I had never stopped, never taken the time to simply exist. 

It was only when Sienna gave a grumpy snort that I took that as a cue to double back for Roshea. 

He had barely moved from the spot, but his shoulders were shaking from the cold and the damp. His hair stuck to the sides of his face as he blinked the rain out of his eyes. 

"Had enough?" I asked as I brought Sienna round beside him.

Roshea looked up slowly, and it took him a while to realise who I was. "Oh, um, I guess." He sniffed and brought his hands up to kiss some feeling back in them. He continued to look fairly gloomy and as we rode side by side, I knew that his mind was still heavy. 

I made no effort to say anything on the journey back, and it was only as I dismounted Sienna and started to take off her equipment that Roshea finally said something.

"Thank you...for taking me with you."


	26. The Repercussions of Standing Out

"Are you sure you don't want anything for yourself?"

I took the plate from Heather's clutches, ignoring the dull heat that dug into my palm. Just looking at the food was making me less hungry. 

Heather gave a fleeting look at the person next to me queued up for his dinner, but that was the most attention that he had received. "It's good of you to look after Sedgar, but you need something as well. Come on, a few vegetables?"

She was trying to make up for her previous blunder to make herself feel better. I wasn't having any of it.

I turned on my heel with Sedgar's dinner securely in both hands with the fork and knife stowed safely underneath. I kept my eyes firmly on the floor as I weaved through the masses of burly and smelly men already tucking into their greasy meat. The steam breathed from the meal, but it only made me feel worse, and I couldn't wait to be relieved of it. 

Sedgar was often prone to illnesses, but he had also recently become accident prone as well. Where Vyland was a blundering idiot by nature, Sedgar had become increasingly negligent in his training. Although, most infuriatingly, he was quick to pick up where he left off even after weeks of not training, he often pushed himself to the limits and further. I had watched his fall from start to end, but all things considered, Sedgar was lucky to get away with a bruised head, a broken wrist and fractured collarbone. In the first few hours of his recovery, he was delirious and talked excessively about bizarre things that weren't entirely out of his regime, but fortunately he hadn't suffered serious brain damage. 

The barracks didn't really have a hospital per se, and whilst there were doctors and physicians around the castle that tended to the soldiers, ultimate treatment came from each of the dormitories. Sedgar had been in my charge, much like Zed was in Fraser's. I knew nothing of first aid (and even Sedgar had agreed Vyland was not a safe option), so Sedgar was the one giving me pointers as I changed his dressings or set his pillow to be more comfortable. He had spent no more than a week taking it easy, but nothing could keep him down for much longer than that. 

Although he was far from full health again, he made every effort to mask his struggles.

He caught my eye mid-conversation and offered his usual smile. 

"You're the best, Wolf," he said as I placed the cutlery and meal before him. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Where's yours?"

A shrug was the only response I gave him. I rubbed my hand on my sleeve hesitantly now it was no longer burning from the warm porcelain. My eyes darted at the men who had especially made room for Sedgar as we had passed through and wanted to hear all about his accident from the top. I had no right to impose. "I'll..."

"Hey, sit yourself down." Sedgar pointed his finger at the seat opposite him. "You know Gustav, he won't bite."

My fingers curled as I tried to come up with something to excuse myself with. I had nothing against Gustav (in fact, his skill with a javelin was something I held respect for), but I didn't deserve to be there. "There's no merit in my partaking."

Sedgar rolled his eyes as he picked up his fork with his only free hand. It was hard to tell how long it would take before his broken wrist could take any proper weight, and it was only then I realised the knife was probably unnecessary. "Wolf, I won't tell you again." He looked across at his peers on the table. "Help me out here, guys."

With a few more vigorous nods and several lighthearted remarks along the lines of united invitation, I realised there was never a choice in the matter.

As I perched at the end of the table, Gustav clapped a hand across my shoulder as if I had done an entire day's work. I kept my eyes firmly on the deep groves across the pine surface as I tried not to concentrate on his bad breath. I could very easily lose my temper here, I had had a few outbreaks when sparring the unprepared or preventing accidents of the incompetent, but I needed to maintain composure. 

Sedgar wanted me here for a reason, but I had yet to figure out why. 

He grinned opposite me as Gustav rubbed my shoulder with too much energy before he resumed the conversation right where he left off. "Anyway, long story short, wasn't the horse's problem but entirely my fault. It had been raining the night before, ergo the soft landing. By Naga though, I needed a really good bath afterwards!"

The woman next to Sedgar, Ida, was the first to laugh at the incredibly bad joke. "I can imagine!"

Sedgar shrugged. "Unfortunately my clothes weren't as lucky. No matter how much we scrubbed, there's always going to be remnants of mud." He caught my eye and in the briefest of moments he looked like he was about to ask me something, but he never followed through. "Save for that, you're all stuck with me."

Ida swept her long locks to one side. "It's good to have you round again. How long do you think it'd take until you're fully recovered?"

"Not long, I hope. The sooner I can get back on the horse, the better." Sedgar continued to poke at his casserole.

Gustav laughed. "Poor horse. You'll get no sympathy from me. Only an idiot would have a novice fall like that."

"Thanks for reminding me," he said airily. Sedgar wrinkled his nose and grimaced, as though the very sight of the watery soup was making him nauseated. In itself, the sloppy mixture looked like something he had brought up earlier in he week. His mouth twisted as he pulled bits of meat off in tiny strips. He looked up in disgust, and I knew what he was thinking. 

I gave him a pointed look. I had no intention of saying anything to the effect of forcing him to eat, but Sedgar knew exactly what was on my mind. I was not the best example, but he needed food to keep him going. His energy had depreciated considerably from the number of times he had popped his collarbone in an irrational attempt to get better quickly. He was never going to mention it to Ida, but it wasn't a matter of how long it took his body to recover, but that he _needed_ to recover quickly. It was one of the few things I could comprehend about Sedgar. 

"Truth is, my time out has given me time to think," he continued placidly. "I've come to realise that we're all in the same boat. We all started our careers in the army much later than those in King Baelis' battalions, or any army in the continent for that matter, but we hold more experience or talent than any of them. Together, we have built a solid empire out of nothing."

Gustav nodded slowly. "We are getting a little big to still be the underdogs."

"Exactly. We're loyal to Coyote, but technically we still fall as part of King Baelis' army. Every mission we receive is in the interest of Aurelis. Some assignments are Coyote's initiatives, but I think it's high time he commands us as his own rather than running things through his brother." Sedgar managed a bit of carrot before continuing. "You don't think it's too bold?"

I was almost tempted to reply. If Coyote was to be removed from the picture, we had no obligation to serve Aurelis. We served the country that had held us hostage because it was an extension of Coyote. 

"What about Nestor?" The rugged man beside Ida had finally spoke up, and he leaned forwards slightly as he addressed Sedgar. I couldn't recall his name; evidently he hadn't created much of an impression on me. "Would he allow it?"

"He acts as an advisor for the family and addresses all matters of management, including the army factions. He'd allow it if Coyote puts up a strong enough case. As Gustav said, we've already become much bigger than we anticipated. Nestor may be relieved to have one less thing to worry about." The others nodded in agreement to Sedgar's words, and the man at the end seemed satisfied with the answer.

"You're cutting the chain of command between Coyote and his brother, which puts Coyote into a stronger position of power. If you did that, he'd be more politically exposed. By saying Coyote deserves more, it could easily instil fear that he will usurp his brother rather than rule alongside him."

Sedgar looked across at me slowly. He seemed a bit taken aback by my comments. "Do you think that Nestor would consider Coyote a threat?"

I could see them all waiting for my reply. Gustav returned to his casserole, but his head was turned ever so slightly to show that he was listening. "I'm only saying that there's a risk and Nestor needs to account for those risks. Once you've tasted power, it's human nature to want more." I could see corruption long before it came. Master Pelham always had a knack of it too; maybe that was where my scepticism came from. I looked at each of the soldiers round the table in turn, from Sedgar's look of concern to Gustav's disinterested one. "At the rate we're going, do you think we could rival King Baelis' men? I do, without a doubt."

"Listen to yourself," Sedgar interrupted. "We're not turning on one another."

"I'm being realistic. It's a possibility worth considering." I got onto my feet. My input wasn't necessary; that wasn't what I was supposed to do. Sedgar had wanted me to agree.

"Sorry Wolf, you're right. I wish I could be more like you."

I narrowed my eyes. No one wanted to be like me; that's why Sedgar was trying so hard to make me like everyone else. 

I couldn't connect or associate with people the way he wanted me to. My mind raced in my brief moments of idleness. I recounted pointless phrases in the midst of training, only to recall in the late hours at night which textbook I had got that information from. I could spend hours nitpicking at what techniques were wrong simply because it bothered me to no end, and more often than not I grew frustrated trying to correct those who were adamant they were right. I needed control and systematic order, and just as I obtain it, everything crumbles before my eyes.

It was a drastic mechanism I had come up with to fulfil my duty to serve Coyote, and I despised it. Even if I could, I'd never allow Sedgar to be like me.

"I wish I could be objective and smart like you. Sometimes you're so brutally honest it hurts, but I don't mind. I don't mind because it's the way you are. You apply yourself in training and learning because it's the only way you can express yourself. Before I realised it, you had already surpassed me." He raised his injured arm slightly. "Do you know the real reason how I got this? Trying to keep up with you."

"Don't use me as an excuse," I said tersely. I was nothing exceptional, no one worthy of being made an idol of. I merely existed to earn my survival. I dedicated every bead of sweat and blood to Coyote because he acquired me. 

Ida leaned to one side to catch my eye. She didn't seem to mind how her shoulder brushed Sedgar's. "It's a compliment to be an inspiration to others. It's a good thing. I want to shoot as well as you and Sedgar one day, even if it takes me years."

I looked across at Gustav to shut him down as he too tried to intervene. I didn't want to be admired by them, or even acknowledged. I had no need of praise, not from them. All I needed was Coyote to know I was at his disposal and to meet his every requirement. 

I jolted as Gustav made to grab my shoulder and took a few steps away from the table before he could attempt again. Conversation died down instantly as the back of my foot noisily crashed against a table leg. Soldiers on the neighbouring tables looked up at the commotion.

My fingers found their way round the wooden edge behind me as I looked for my escape route. They were all watching me with that pained look, the same stares I had been seeing for months on end. I had never been surrounded by so many judgmental eyes, so many unknown thoughts running through their minds. I never stood out, but I could say now, after finally experiencing it, that I hated that too.


End file.
